


Thicker than Blood

by Ithiel_Dragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Demons, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, No Underage Sex, Original Character(s), Unrelated Winchesters, Vampire Dean, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-05 07:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 166,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10300685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiel_Dragon/pseuds/Ithiel_Dragon
Summary: Dean has been a vampire for a long time.  He's always been careful to cover his tracks, but occasionally he's had run-ins with hunters.  He is forced to kill the latest hunter who comes after him.  A man named John Winchester.  He's never had a problem with killing humans, especially hunters.  All of that changes when he finds out the hunter has a six year old son.This work is incomplete and abandoned, it will never be completed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story uploaded by Ithiel Dragon. This was a roleplay story I was involved in several years ago on a forum called Devil's Gate. Ithiel Dragon played Dean Winchester, and some other characters. Pegasi played Sam Winchester, and some other characters. I am posting this story in its entirety and unedited. The page breaks are where the author changed. Maybe one day I will go back and edit it into a more proper story format, but don't hold your breath. I'm mostly posting this story here so I don't lose it. I still think its a pretty good read the way it is, but it is still obviously a roleplay. You've been warned.

  
It was raining hard. The weatherman had called for thunderstorms tonight, and for once they'd been right. The downpour was so thick even Dean sometimes had trouble seeing through the sheets of rain. The thick clouds overhead blocked out any source of light from the moon or stars, only brief flashes of lightning gave any illumination to the ground below. Ground that had already been saturated by water from the never ending rain, forming wide puddles of mud, was now saturated by something else as well.   


  
Blood.

Dean looked down at the body at his feet with absolutely no feeling in his dark gaze. Foolish hunter. Well, maybe not so foolish since the man had been good enough to catch up to him in the first place. Not good enough, however, as the wide gaping wound in the man's throat attested to. His throat ripped out.

The body had stopped twitching some time ago. Dean had watched impassively as the last of the hunter's life blood drain from him, the light of life fading from his eyes. Dead as a dolls eyes now, staring up at him in shock, as though they could not believe Dean had killed him. 

Dean did not care that he'd killed the man. It was survival of the fittest, after all. The machete the man would have used to sever Dean's head from his shoulders had he gotten the chance now laid limp in the man's grasp. It had probably never crossed the hunter's mind that he would lose the fight, but Dean had not lived this long by being stupid. Instead the man's blood staining Dean's lips was already being washed away by the rain. Foolish hunter. 

The vampire knelt down next to the body and quickly went through the man's pockets. He found a wallet, a hotel room key, and a set of car keys. John Winchester, is what the driver's license said the man's name was. Dean wondered if it was the man's real name or not. Winchester. It sounded fake. But Dean had been ready to change his name for a while now, and Winchester was as good as any, he supposed. Sometimes it sucked living forever and having to change your name and move every twenty years or so, but it was one of the prices of immortality. 

The motel key was for the Holiday Inn a few miles into town, and Dean supposed it was a good a place as any to crash for the day. He would also have to go through the hunter's belongings there and get rid of any evidence or notes the man might have collected about him. Dean didn't want another hunter picking up his trail again anytime soon.

So Dean stood up again, leaving the dead body where it was in the middle of the field where the hunter had interrupted his latest meal. The young girl Dean had brought out here to 'romance' laid not far away as well. Dean had snapped her neck when she'd tried to run after the hunter had shown up. Pity that. But the hunter himself had made a fine meal. 

Dean followed the hunter's scent easily even in the pouring rain back to the man's car and raised an eyebrow seeing it. Black '67 Chevy Impala. Very nice. Maybe Dean would keep it for a while for himself. He got in the car, enjoying the way the engine growled when he started her up and headed down the road that would take him into town.

The vampire made it to the Holiday Inn a little after three o'clock in the morning. The rain still came down in never ending sheets and the thunder and still rolled ominously overhead. Looking forward to getting dry, Dean pulled the car up in front of the hunter's room number and got out of the car. There were no lights on anywhere in the surrounding rooms so Dean didn't worry about anyone seeing him as he went up to the door and let himself inside. 

As soon as the door shut behind him Dean froze. There was the sound of a heart beat inside the room. A young strong heart beat. Dean's eyes adjusted easily to the darkness in the motel room and widened a little when they fell on a small curled up figure in one of the two beds in the room. A child. The hunter had a son…   


* * *

At six years of age, Sam Winchester knew more about the evils of the world than most adults. Ever since his mother had died when he was a baby, killed by a demon, his father had gone on a revenge fueled spree, killing every supernatural thing out there. Problem with this was that being an only son meant that Sam had to take care of himself when Dad disappeared on his little trips. He never went too far, but Sam had to be self reliant anyway.

Sam had to protect himself, in case something came for him while Dad was gone.

Which is why when the motel door opened without Dad's rhythmic knock signaling that it was him, Sam tensed, hand reaching slowly for the gun Dad had hidden under the bed. His hands were too small to hold the gun well, and the recoil sent him sprawling, but it was better than having no defense. Also, the knife was on the sidetable and Sam needed his hands on a weapon right _now_.

As footsteps entered further into the room, Sam jumped out of bed, holding the gun up with both hands, barrel pointing at the shadow in the darkened room. There was a line of salt on the doorstep... but the thing had walked right over it. Did that mean that it wasn't a monster?

"Don't come any closer!" Sam warned, his little voice shrill and high pitched. "I'll shoot!" His hands were shaking, and he was so damn scared. Sure, his Dad hunted monsters, but this was the first time he had come face to face with one without his Dad around. The gun kept shaking, and his little arms were getting tired of holding it up.

_Shoot first. Ask questions later._

His Dad's voice rang out in his ears, and he pressed the trigger. The gun angled badly, the recoil throwing off Sam's entire aim and the shot went wide. It hit the lamp on the other side of the room, a good three feet to the right of the shadow. The recoil made Sam stumble, foot catching on an upturned corner of the carpet and he fell back. Hard. His head hit the corner of the table and his eyes screwed shut with pain.

Dizzy, he reached up and his fingers touched the thick liquid he could feel on his forehead, seeing his fingers come away red.

Being the child as he was, the sight of his own blood made him screw up his features and open his mouth, letting out a heartbreaking wail, calling for his Dad. He was terrified, and in pain, and he just wanted his Daddy.

* * *

Dean had thought the child was asleep. He had been sure of it. It was after three in the morning for fucks sake, the boy _should_ have been asleep. In fact, if the boy had been asleep then the vampire probably would have just slipped back out of the room unnoticed. He might be a ‘monster’ that drank the blood of humans to stay alive, but he didn’t kill children if he could help it. It was kind of like killing a puppy. It just left a bad taste in his mouth.

But when the boy suddenly sprang out of the bed Dean was surprised. That wasn’t the only surprise for the vampire apparently as the boy leveled a gun on him… definitely the child of a hunter. The weapon was practically bigger than the boy was and the child’s hands shook trying to hold it level on him. The whole scene should have been enormously funny, but it was not. Not in the least.

Especially when the boy fired the weapon.

The bullet went wide, coming nowhere close to hitting him. Not that it would have hurt him even if it _had_ hit him. And that wasn’t the reason why Dean cursed. It was the damned noise the gun made. Someone was sure to hear it, and while most would probably chalk it up to a car backfiring or something, Dean knew he couldn’t take that chance. So much for having a place to crash tonight…

He should have turned and left right then, but instead Dean stood there in the middle of the room, watching as the boy stumbled back from the force of the gun going off. Almost in slow motion he watched the child fall into the table and hit his head. Hard. Hard enough to bleed. Even though Dean had fed well tonight the sight and smell of the blood pulled at him. Then of course, the boy started to cry loudly, making Dean wince at the noise. Even if the gunshot hadn’t woken half the motel, someone was definitely going to hear _that_.

Cursing again, Dean took several quick steps and knelt down beside the child, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Shut up! Do you hear me? Be quiet!” Dean growled threateningly at the boy, his eyes flashing red in the darkness. He should leave. He should leave right now before someone came. But he must have still been in some kind of shock over finding the boy here because he didn’t leave. What was a child this young doing here _alone_? What did it matter? Someone would come and find him soon enough if he kept wailing like he had. What did it matter to him?

Because you killed his father… that’s why it mattered…

Dean was almost startled by his own thoughts, and the slight pang of guilt he felt that accompanied them. For the first time in over two hundred years he felt guilty over taking a human life. Which was just foolish because Dean knew he had killed plenty of fathers during his long lifetime… But he had never stood in front of crying child not even an hour after he’d made him an orphan before. Surely the boy was an orphan now, because if the boy could be _anywhere_ else he wouldn’t have been left here _alone_.

He heard noises outside. Someone had definitely heard the ruckus the boy had made. Fuck.

Dean stood up quickly then but instead of leaving the child where he was, crying and bleeding on the floor, like he should have he surprised himself by picking the boy up and hauling him over his shoulder. The child might as well have weighed nothing at all, even with the way he was squirming and fighting him, Dean easily held him. He couldn’t waste time destroying any evidence the hunter might have left now. He grabbed the gun as well and ran out of the room.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” Dean heard a voice of a man a few doors down, and the vampire didn’t hesitate raising the gun and shooting him in the head. Wasn’t much a point at subtlety right now, but he didn’t want to leave anyone with a description of him either. Dean carried the struggling boy out to the impala and got in, dumping the boy into the seat next to him. He didn’t waste any time starting the car, throwing it into reverse, and peeling out of the motel parking lot, hoping to get far enough away before the cops showed up.

Oddly enough the man’s words echoed in his head over and over. What the hell _was_ he doing?

* * *

With Sam's head bleeding, his terror knowing no bounds, and then the monster coming so close Sam could see the red flash of his eyes, being quiet was the least of Sam's problems.

As the thing grabbed him - _It looked so much like a man!_ \- Sam squirmed, blinking through the redness in his eyes, twisting and turning and yowling even louder. He generally made it nearly impossible for the man to grab him, doing his imitation of a slippery fish, as Dad liked to call him. But the man's grip on him was strong, and then he was being hauled over his - _its_ \- shoulder. All the blood rushed to Sam's already injured head and he found himself getting dizzy quickly. He grabbed at the man's jacket, fisting his fingers into the material with the intention of pulling and attacking, but instead he was beginning to feel weak with all the jostling.

When he heard a man's voice, demanding what was going on, Sam screamed again, tears tracking down his cheeks and mouth open wide as he let the world know of his displeasure. Instead of that man saving him, Sam heard another gunshot and then... silence. His crying took on a shrieking edge, calling out to his Dad because Dad couldn't be too far. Dad was going to come save him. He'll find Sam being kidnapped by this man and then he would punish the man for taking Sam from the motel room.

The entire trip to the car, Sam made it as difficult as possible. He kicked, he screamed, he bunched his fists into the man's jacket and attacked him as hard as he could.

Sam's head throbbed, the pain nearly unbearable in its intensity, and he could feel pressure in his head like his brain was going to push his eyes out of his skull. Then the man threw him into the familiar passenger seat of the Impala, and Sam's headache doubled. His screaming subsided to whimpers as he grabbed his head, trying to curl away from the man as much as he could. As the car sped away, Sam hand one hand curled into the door handle, trying futilely to open the door while the other was pressed against the small head wound, trying to stem the flow.

"My D-Daddy will k-kill you," Sam hiccuped as he looked at the man kidnapping him, tears creating clear paths down his cheeks through the blood covering them. "P-please let me go b-back to my D-D-Daddy," Sam whispered before his face screwed up again and he cried, not the ear piercing wails of before, but quiet, distressed sobs instead.

* * *

Dean stepped on the gas, going as fast as he dared down the little country road. He didn't want to get pulled over by the local cops with a crying bleeding child in the car, after all.

The vampire kept his eyes on the road but he also kept his eyes on the boy curled up in the seat next to him. When he looked over and saw the boy's hand on the door handle, as though he might just open the car door and jump out while Dean was doing 80 miles per hour, the vampire growled under his breath and reached over to grab the boy. He hauled the child closer to him, away from the door, and kept his grip on the small arm to discourage any stupid ideas the boy might have.

"Be still and be quiet." The vampire warned, though really, the boy wasn't crying all that loudly anymore. Instead he was making small pained and frightened sounds like that of a wounded animal, but no longer wailing like a banshee.

Dean honestly wasn't all that surprised by the boy's words. He was more surprised that the child could form words at all given his terror, Dean could smell it coming off the boy in waves.

"Your father is dead." Dean finally informed the boy simply.

* * *

The man's words only worsened the fear in Sam's heart, and he refused to believe that Dad was dead. Dad was strong and tall and powerful with guns and silver knives and enchantments and amulets. He could fight vampires and werewolves and ghosts and witches and nothing could harm him. Dad was not dead. This man was a liar.

"LIAR!" and Sam was yelling again. Just the thought of his Dad dead made him wail all over again, but not for long. Soon enough, anger replaced fear, and then Sam was grabbing onto the hand holding onto his arm, and with the viciousness only a six year old could muster, he bit into the soft skin of the man's wrist as hard as he could. As he did that, he used the double leverage he had on the man's arm in order to twist up and kick the man in the jaw. Repeatedly. With his socked feet.

Sam's head throbbed, and he was getting dizzy, but right now his anger and desperation helped him keep a hold on the slippery consciousness. He hoped that soon enough, Daddy will get there and rescue Sam and then he will beat the very bad man - _monster_ \- who was trying to take him away. Dad will find Sam, and then this monster will regret every minute. Until then, Sam was going to make his life as miserable as he can. Shoving all the lessons of 'Be a good boy' out the window, Sam jabbed the heel of his foot into the man's ribs even as he dug his teeth in even harder into the man's skin.

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure weather he should have been surprised by the reaction or not. It wasn’t as though he had much experience dealing with children. But when the boy suddenly attacked _him_ , yes, it did surprise him. Hurt him? No, of course not. He was a vampire after all. The boy’s attacks might as well have been a buzzing fly for all the damage the child did to him. Piss him off, however? That was another story.

He could understand that the child was upset, rightly so, but there were limits to Dean’s patience and when the boy actually _bit_ him, that was pretty much the end of it. Dean’s eyes turned blood red in anger and his fangs descended, turning his head to the boy the vampire roared viciously, inhumanly, in a way that had made _grown men_ wet themselves. At the same time Dean pulled his arm back sharply and shoved the boy away from him with enough force into the seat to probably knock the air out of him but not to do any additional damage.

“If you do not sit there, be quiet, and behave yourself I will snap your fucking neck and throw you out of this car, do you understand me?!” Dean snarled before forcing his attention back to the road in front of him. The pouring rain already made driving difficult enough without him being distracted by tantrum throwing children as well.

Dean checked his wrist briefly, just to make sure, and while there were definite teeth marks in his skin the flesh hadn’t broken. That was a relief. If the boy had swallowed even a drop of his blood… why the hell did he care? Certainly a vampire child was the last thing Dean wanted to deal with right now, but it wouldn’t have been an issue at all if he’d just left the brat where he was. It wasn’t like the boy was a witness, it was too dark in the room for the child to have seen his face. Someone would have eventually found the boy, crying and bleeding, and taken care of him. Dean wasn’t planning on killing the child so… why had he taken him?

It bothered Dean. More than just the fact that he’d stolen a child… but was it really stealing if the boy belonged to no one now? Of course they would look for the shooter, and they would eventually find John Winchester next to the body of a dead girl. Maybe they would consider the man a victim, but most likely, with the weapons the man had and the reputation most hunters carried with them, they would peg the hunter as the killer who was then attacked by wild animals or something. Case closed. No one would report the child missing, even if the other guests at the motel did report hearing a child’s screaming tonight to the police.

It was the fact that Dean never made rash decisions that bothered him the most. That was a good way to get killed, and Dean had lived too damned long to die now. This? This was definitely a rash decision however, dangerous to boot, kidnapping a young child. What the hell was he supposed to do with him now that he had him? Dean had no idea, but he knew he better figure it out pretty damned soon.

* * *

The roar that the man let out was the last proof that Sam needed that told him that this man was no human. Nothing human could make a sound like that. It was like a million nightmares rolled into one. Worse, because it wasn't a dream, and yet Sam still couldn't move. His attacks had done no damage, and the man's roar had only made his terror magnify a million times until Sam felt frozen, ice cold running up and down his body as his limbs refused to cooperate.

The man's threat wasn't the scariest part of the whole thing. Just that roar had... it had shaken Sam to the core.

The shove later had only worsened the pain in Sam's head, but he wasn't paying attention to that at all. He was sure now, that once the monster was done taking him someplace quiet, he would eat him.

Sam sniffled, snot running out of his nose and face sticky with blood and tears. He curled away from the man, pressed up against the glass of the passenger door.

"A-are you going to e-eat me?" Sam asked softly, breath hitching in places as he struggled to stop his sobs. "D-did you eat my D-D-Daddy?" Sam asked, face twisting again like he wanted to cry, but he didn't. He swallowed heavily, tears flowing without check as he wondered what happened to his father, and what was going to happen to him.

He missed his Dad.

* * *

Dean growled under his breath. The boy certainly had a difficult time with the concept of ‘being quiet’. Then again, compared to how the child had been shrieking before, he supposed this was quiet. His sensitive ears were still ringing from the wailing the boy had done even now that it had stopped.

He thought for a long time how to answer, or if he even should answer, the boy’s questions. On the one hand, he didn’t want to frighten the young boy more, Dean didn’t get off of scaring children after all. On the other hand, there really wasn’t much point in lying to the boy. His father had been a hunter, after all. The boy had pulled a fucking _gun_ on him. He seriously doubted the child had been coddled most of his life.

“Your father tried to kill me.” The vampire finally answered, deciding the boy was probably old enough to figure out the rest on his own. Especially since he’d already told the child that his father was dead. How to answer the boy’s other question was a little harder. Not because Dean planned on ‘eating’ the boy but because that fear might be the only thing making the boy behave right now and Dean didn’t want to deal with another tantrum. Then again, if the boy thought Dean was going to hurt him he might just jump out that door he was once again curled against like it would protect him from the big bad monster.

“I’m not going to hurt you if you behave yourself.” Dean said, glancing over at the boy as he did so, and frowning a little. The fact that the child was covered in blood probably didn’t lend weight to his reassurances, but to be fair the boy had done that to himself. Dean should probably check to make sure the wound was nothing serious even though he didn’t think it was. Head wounds tended to bleed like a bitch no matter how small they were, but he should still probably make sure.

Dean sighed heavily realizing that he couldn’t get as far away ‘from the scene of the crime’ as he might have liked tonight. Not if he needed to take care of the child. Besides, the sun would be up in a few hours anyway. While the sunlight might not kill him like in the movies it was still damned uncomfortable.

He only had to think a moment before deciding where he would take the boy. There was an old farm house, miles away from anyone or anything, and long abandoned. It was only a few more miles down this road in fact. He’d been living in this area long enough that he had acquired a few such ‘safe houses’ as he liked to call them. While he had already sold off his main house and possessions in preparation to move on, he hadn’t gotten rid of any of his other properties yet. Dean ‘Miller’ would continue to own them for another twenty years or so until Dean finally signed off on the death certificate and the bank took control of them once again. Until then, Dean still owned it.

It was the perfect place to hole up for a few days until things blew over and Dean figured out what he was going to do with the boy. So he continued to drive. Even with the headlights off, not wanting the car to draw any attention, he still saw the dirt road he needed to pull off on easily in the dark. A few more miles down the narrow bumpy path through the woods and fields, he finally pulled up to the old run down house.

Not wanting to leave the car out in the open even on the slim chance someone might see it, Dean pulled the car around back and into the barn. Half of the roof might be gone but Dean only wanted to keep the car out of sight, he didn’t care about the paint job.

Throwing the car into park, Dean quickly reached over to grasp the boy’s arm again just in case he decided to take off now that the car had stopped moving. Not that Dean couldn’t catch the child easily if he ran, Dean just didn’t feel like it right now. He tugged the boy with him out of his side of the car as Dean got out, then the vampire picked him up again, more gently this time, and carried him towards the house. Using his own coat to keep the worst of the rain off of the boy. 

* * *

The man's confirmation that Dad had been trying to kill him - _Daddy only kills evil things. This monster is evil_ \- and then that the monster had eaten him silenced Sam. An average six year old would be too young to grasp the idea of death, but Sam knew that when people die, they don't ever come back. Ever.

Grief stricken, all Sam wanted suddenly was his Daddy. Nothing more. He won't even mind if Dad got drunk and passed out on the couch. He just wanted Dad around so he could be safe and away from this horrible man.

As the car started slowing, Sam darted towards the door, planning on throwing it open and then running, running, running. But the man predicted the move and one strong hand grabbed his arm, keeping him in place until the man was getting out of the car, pulling him out along with him and Sam came quietly, worn down and tired. When the man picked him up, gentler this time, Sam was surprisingly not afraid.

He wanted to struggle and fight and bite the man again as he huddled him inside his coat, protecting him from the rain, but Sam was so, so tired. And the monsters arms were strong around him, and he was being gentle, and so Sam let himself be carried for a little while. His head was throbbing still, and his panic and crying earlier had made it worse. Now he felt like a ragdoll. He pressed his face into the man's shoulder, small hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt and holding on. He cried softly. He didn't have energy for the kind of wailing he had been doing earlier, but he couldn't just stop. Either his father was dead somewhere and never coming back, or he was alive and fine and he'll never find Sam because this monster had stolen him.

"I want my Daddy," Sam whispered into the man's shirt, eyes squeezed shut and misery written in every line of his body. Just 24 hours ago, Sam had had a Dad, and he was happy and fed and his Dad had kissed his forehead and told him to be a good boy, Daddy will be back soon. And now Sam was possibly an orphan - he didn't trust the monster enough to believe every word - and he was possibly never going to see his Daddy again, and he was possibly going to die in the next few hours since the monster had found a quiet, isolated place to eat Sam in peace.

That thought only made him sob once and then return to his quiet tears. If the man tried to eat him, Sam will fight, but he knew he was not strong, not yet. When he had kicked the monster earlier, he'd done it as hard as he could and the man hadn't even looked like it hurt even a little... he'll have to run. That's all he could do.

* * *

The child was suddenly so docile Dean wondered if he should be worried about the boy's health. He was probably just exhausted and tired himself out with his earlier tantrums. While the smell of blood was all over the boy it wasn't to a degree that Dean figured he had to worry about the child going into shock or something. Besides, the boy's heart beat was strong, even if it was a little fast, probably with fear and his breathing was relatively even given his quiet sobs. The child was however shaking, either in cold or in fear, and Dean knew he needed to get him cleaned up and dry quickly… and he should probably enjoy the boy being quiet and docile for as long as it lasted.

"I know." Dean responded to the child's soft plea not unkindly. Once more feeling that slight pang of guilt that really had no business being there. The hunter had tried to kill _him_ after all and Dean had given him the chance to run and leave him in peace. But the foolish hunter had persisted on pursuing him so now he was dead… and now Dean had kidnapped and was taking care of the hunter's child. If someone had told him that two hundred years ago Dean would have laughed at them at the absurdity of it. Maybe Dean was getting soft in his old age.

Dean carried the boy up the rickety steps of the house's porch and opened the door. It wasn't locked, no need, the place was a wreck and no one would want to stay here. Still Dean listened closely for a moment and smelled to make sure no one was squatting here all the same. The only heartbeat he heard was the boy's and a few small animals hiding in the long grass. There wasn't a soul around for miles.

So he took the child inside and despite the pitch darkness found his way easily to the basement. The rest of the house might be unlivable but Dean had set up a few necessities in the basement just in case he had to stay here unexpectedly. He did that with all of his safe houses. There might not be things like food and water, he didn't need them, but there was an old musty mattress, a few blankets, and basic medical supplies. While it wasn't often he got hurt enough to need them, if he needed a safe house in the first place, it was better to have them handy.

Dean shut and locked the door of the basement stairs behind them and carried the boy down the squeaky steps. Then he placed the child on the center of the mattress.

"Stay." He said firmly, his tone broking no argument. Not that Dean thought the boy would disobey him, it was pitch black right now in the basement, the boy wouldn't be able to see a thing even if Dean could.

He left the boy's side to rummage around in the box of supplies he left and finally found what he was looking for. Using the lighter in his pocket he lit a few candles and set them around the room in places too high for the child to reach so hopefully they wouldn't get knocked over and start a fire. He then returned to the box and pulled out a couple of blankets and the first aid kit. One of the blankets he used to wipe the boy down and dry him off slowly and carefully, not wanting to spook the child again. The blood was stubborn however and Dean realized he would need some water. Well, there was plenty of rain outside and that would do for now, but sooner rather than later he would have to go out and get some bottled water and food for the boy to eat.

Dean sighed softly as he wrapped the other blanket carefully around the boy's shoulders.

"Stay." He repeated even more firmly, then got up. With a little bit of rummaging, there wasn't much left in the old basement, he managed to find a bucket that didn't look too filthy. He would rinse it out anyway before filling it with water. Dean started up the stairs, unlocking the door, then locking it again from the other side before he headed back out into the rain.

* * *

The man was being nice to him...

Sam's eyes were wide as the man put him on an old lumpy mattress that honestly didn't smell too great, but Sam wasn't going to complain. The basement was pitch black and he stayed still until the man lit a few candles high up on the shelf. Soft orange glow filled the room and cast sinister shadows everywhere. Sam shuddered again, monsters in the shadows coming to get him. But the one monster that did come had a blanket. The man was gentle as he dried Sam off, and Sam stayed limp enough to not put too much of a protest. He _was_ tired and cold and incredibly, incredibly sad.

The man tried to clean his face, but the blood was sticky and Sam kept rubbing at his eyes, removing clumps of gooey, mucusy stuff that was often red tinged as his eye cleared out the debris. The man sighed before putting the second blanket around Sam's shoulders and then ordered him to 'stay'. Grabbing a bucket, the man was going upstairs and Sam heard the sound of the basement door opening and then closing.

Fresh tears welled in Sam's eyes and he wiped them off stubbornly with the blanket around his shoulders. Then for good measure, he blew his nose into it. Throwing the blanket aside, Sam crawled off the mattress and gingerly started looking around the sinister looking basement. He heard something scuttle to the side and then the squeak of a mouse. Sam wasn't normally scared of mice, but when he was barefoot, save for socks, in his pajamas and a thin shirt with blood crusted around the neckline and a monster probably waiting to kill him, the mouse turned into a vicious ravenous monster in his head.

Sam yelped, grabbing one of the boxes piled in the corner and throwing it at the mouse, missing it by a mile. Then he found himself running up the stairs, jiggling the doorknob and finding it locked. Angry, he kicked it and pain shot up his foot, letting him know that kicking a locked wooden door with nothing to protect his feet but thin old socks was not smart by any means.

Sulking down the stairs again, he saw the mouse staring at him, looking tiny but casting huge shadows. Sam curled his arms over his chest, looking around again. No windows, save for small barred openings near the ceiling. Sam couldn't climb up there, although he was sure he could squeeze through. He started dragging some of the boxes along, pushing them up against the wall right under the small window. He climbed on it. He was still too short to reach it. Sighing, Sam stepped down again and found another box, trying to push it up on top of the first one, but it was heavy and it fell several times. He finally managed to get it up on the first cardboard box and climb on top of both. His fingers had barely skimmed the bars on the window when his foot went through the top of the box and he fell into it. There were blankets in here, and they smelled a little musty, but Sam fit into the box perfectly and he felt safe in here, hiding. Hopefully the monster won't be able to find him in here.

With that thought, he curled up into the box and let his eyes close. Once the monster was unable to find him, he would think that Sam escaped and the he would leave and then Sam would be free to look for his Daddy.

Now Sam just had to stay very, very quiet... Sam thought with a yawn.

* * *

It was still raining hard enough that it didn't take long for Dean to rinse out the bucket and fill it half way with cool clear water. A good thing since he didn't want to leave the boy alone for very long and risk him getting into trouble. Who was he kidding? The child was probably already getting into trouble, but hopefully not enough to make Dean's life too difficult.

The vampire sighed softly, pulling his coat tighter around him. He was looking forward to dry clothes and a good days rest, even though he probably wouldn't get the latter. He still had to figure out what he was going to do with the boy, after all. Hell, he'd be happy if he could just figure out why he'd taken the boy in the first place.

As he headed back inside with the bucket of water Dean contemplated how he was going to get what he needed to take care of a child, at least in the short term. The boy would need food, water, and clean clothes. The first two items the boy would probably need very soon, within the next few hours at least. The water he had now might be relatively clean but it probably wasn't very good to drink.

Dean supposed the easiest way to get what he needed would be to break into a 'neighbors' house a few miles away and steal some food and other items. If Dean didn't take too much it would probably be weeks before the theft would even be noticed. He wouldn't have to be gone too long and it would buy him some time to figure out what to do with the child.

He unlocked the basement door and relocked it behind him, knowing he couldn't be too careful, and headed down the stairs. Dean couldn't deny his moment of surprise when he reached the bottom of the stairs to find the basement 'empty'. But all he had to do was listen carefully and he heard the sound of the boy's heart beat. Hiding then. Dean sighed again, figuring he'd be doing a lot of that in the near future, and set the bucket down next to the now empty mattress.

Dean walked over to the boxes stacked up underneath the window, it wasn't hard to figure out what the boy had been up to and the vampire shook his head. Not sure whether to be amused or annoyed by the boy's stubbornness. He wondered if he should just leave the boy hiding in the box, he might be less trouble and Dean might be able to actually get some rest today, but he still had to check the boy's head and clean him up.

So Dean flipped open the top flaps of the box, shaking his head again at the sight of the small child curled up inside, and reached inside the box to pick the boy up gently. He said nothing as he set the boy once more down on the mattress, reached for the blanket he'd been using to clean off the boy, and dipped a corner of it into the bucket of water.

Cleaning off the child went much easier this time, and while he couldn't get all of the blood out of the boy's hair it was good enough. Dean checked the cut on the boy's head carefully, and as he suspected it wasn't more than a scratch. It had already stopped bleeding, but Dean cleaned it gently with some disinfectant from the first aid kit and put a bandage over it all the same. Once he was done he tossed the soiled blanket into a corner. The other one as well with a mild look of disgust when he saw the corner had been used for a Kleenex. Well, it was a good thing he had plenty of blankets.

Dean got up again and went over to the box the boy had been hiding in, grabbing two more blankets. One for the boy which he draped over the child once again and one for himself which he tossed onto a nearby shelf. The vampire then proceeded to strip out of his wet and muddy clothing, drying himself off and running the blanket several times through his wet hair. He went over to another box and pulled out some clothes for himself and put them on, then after a moment's thought he pulled out another t-shirt for the child. It would be much too big on the boy but at least it was clean and dry.

Returning to the child's side with the shirt, Dean dropped the garment into the boy's lap.

"Put that on."

* * *

Sam had almost drifted to sleep when gentle hands were pulling him out of the box. He startled into wakefulness, but he didn't struggle as the man put him back on the mattress. He should have known the man would find him. Easily too. Sam huffed as the man started wiping his face with the wet edge of a blanket. Sam stayed quiet, letting the man do as he wished. He was surprisingly gentle with him, cleaning off his face and checking his injury. It had stopped bleeding and it only stung a little as the man tended to it.

When the man was done bandaging the small cut, he went to the box Sam had been hiding in and started pulling out blankets before stripping down. Sam watched curiously, wondering if inside the clothes, the man was more like a monster than a human being. He wondered if there would be scales, or wings, or he would be furry or something.

He wasn't. The man looked exactly like a man. A big man. Tall and broad. Sam scowled, confused, but before long there was a shirt in his lap and the man's gruff voice telling him to put it on.

Sam tuck his bottom lip out, gingerly picking up the shirt and holding it up.

It was... huge. Sam pulled off his damp and dirty shirt over his head and pulled on the new one. It's neck hole was large enough to hang over one shoulder, and the hem was at about his knee level. Sam lifted the shirt lightly to his nose to sniff it, and all he smelled was a little bit of dust and a little mustiness. Not too unpleasant.

"Is this where you live?" Sam asked quietly, picking at a thread on the mattress. "Are you a monster?" His question was soft, almost whispered as his eyes dropped to the cement floor, afraid that now that he had asked, the man would transform into a vicious nightmare.

* * *

The boy didn’t argue with him, small favors, and put the shirt on as he’d asked. Dean had been right, the shirt was way too big, but he’d worry about getting the boy clothes that fit later.

“No.” He answered the boy’s first question with a small snort of amusement, sitting down on the mattress next to the child. “This is one of the places I stay if I need to. We’ll stay here for a few days while I figure out what to do with you.”

Easier said than done. Chances were he’d probably just drop the boy off at an orphanage or a police station a few towns over. But if that was all he was going to do, why did he even bother to take the boy in the first place? The police that had surely shown up at the motel could have done that themselves.

Maybe Dean wanted to find out if the boy really was an orphan, and possibly return him to whatever family he had left, rather than abandoning him to the system… Ok. That sounded way too sappy and definitely out of character even to himself. But it wasn’t like he’d had much time to think with the boy shooting at him and everything else.

Dean sighed softly as he laid down on the mattress. They would have to share. The mattress wasn’t large but there was still plenty of room for both him and the child. The good news was if the child moved away from his side at any time during the day Dean would wake up instantly, so he didn’t have to worry about the boy running off without him knowing.

“Lay down, get some sleep.” The vampire said, patting the mattress beside him before answering the boy’s second question. “Not right now, I'm not.”

It was true enough.

* * *

Sam nodded as the man answered his first question. So the man didn't plan on eating him... at least not for a few more days. That gave him time to try and get away. The man laid down on the mattress, stretching out and there was more than enough space for Sam as well, but Sam was apprehensive about getting that close to a monster.

_"Not right now, I'm not."_

Sam swallowed down the lump of grief and fear in his throat. Quietly, and nervously, Sam shuffled closer to the man before lying down on his side next to him. He curled into himself, lying right at the edge of the mattress, not wanting to be too close. He closed his eyes, already a plan forming in his head. The man had the key to the basement door. Probably in his jacket that was right now discarded over a shelf to the side. All Sam had to do was wait for the man to fall asleep, and then he'll get the key and unlock the door and escape.

The plan was failproof!

What Sam hadn't counted on was drifting off to sleep, the exhaustion of the last couple of hours catching up to him. He fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of waking up in a bed in some random motel, with his Dad opening the motel room door and coming inside, smiling at Sam.

"Hey, kiddo," Dad said to him, putting a bag of food on the table and Sam jumped out of the bed, rushing to his Dad and hugging him tight. "Whoa, miss me, Sammy?"

Sam nodded where he had his face buried in his father's belly, crying softly in his dream.

In the real world, Sam sniffled and shifted, sprawling out wider in his sleep in the way only kids could, limbs everywhere. Without meaning to, Sam slept the entire night through, and quite a bit of the morning as well, snoring softly.

* * *

Dean watched the boy lay down slowly and hesitantly next to him… well… as far away from him on the mattress as he possibly could without falling off, but still next to him. Barely a few minutes later the child was fast asleep. Probably more to do with simple exhaustion than any amount of trust of him. Not that Dean could really blame him, but he’d been telling the boy the truth, he had no intention of harming the boy.

As exhausted as Dean himself felt he stayed up for almost an hour more simply watching the boy sleep. Dean couldn’t tell if the boy’s dreams were troubled or not. The way he sniffled softly in his sleep between snores, probably not, but Dean didn’t try to wake him. Eventually the boy stretched out from his curled defensive posture, taking up much more room than Dean ever would have imagined.

Sighing softly, Dean eventually tucked the boy in closer to his side gently and wrapped an arm loosely around him to hold him in place. Just to make sure the boy didn’t smack him in the face while he tried to sleep or anything. Dean was rather grumpy when his sleep was disturbed in the middle of the day.

After a few more minutes listening to the boy’s rhythmic breathing and heart beat, Dean let himself drift off to sleep as well. His own breath and heart slowing to almost nonexistent, like all vampires did while they were asleep. 

* * *

It was late morning when Sam woke up again, but he didn't know this. The room was dark, with only small amounts of light coming through the tiny, dusty windows on top letting him know that it was day, but nothing more. The candles had burned down to nothing, and the light in the room was just enough to see, but not enough to disturb.

With a soft sigh, he started to shift further into the warm body next to him before he remembered what had happened yesterday. This warm body here was not his father.

Sam froze quickly, every muscle going tense as his eyes sought out the man's face. He was asleep, looking tired in the dim light of the room. It amazed Sam how much this man looked like an average person. In fact, he even looked nice. Someone Sam wouldn't have thought twice about taking candy from... not that he would, because his Dad would whoop his a- umm, butt, if he did.

Sam shifted slowly, trying to crawl out from under the man's arm. He was still asleep, so Sam could still get the key and get out of here. Sam moved as slow as a snail, trying not to jostle the man at all. He held his breath, heart beating loudly in his ears as he saw his escape possible. He slipped his legs off the mattress first, as they were the most free, and then he slowly moved his shoulders and head out of the man's loose embrace.

He got to his feet as silently as he could, using every lesson his Dad had ever taught him. His socked feet were nearly soundless on the cement floor, and soon Sam was standing in front of the man's discarded jacket. He searched the pockets as quickly as he could dare, finding the keys to the Impala first. Sam's throat constricted at the sight of the keys. That car was his Dad's, and no one else's. How dare this monster steal it from him?!

Making sure that the keys didn't clang together, he searched the pockets again and this time he found another key in the inside pocket of the jacket.

SCORE!

Sam barely managed to keep himself from whooping with happiness as he started climbing the stairs, cringing when he hit a few squeaky ones until he got to the door, the car keys held tight in one hand and the key to the basement door in the other.

* * *

Dean had woken up the instant he felt the boy shifting out from under his arm. One thing about vampires that most didn’t know was that they could control exactly how deeply they slept. Sometimes they slept, almost literally, like the dead if they needed to heal from a grave injury. Other times, like now, the smallest sound, movement, or change in their surroundings would have them awake and alert in an instant. Dean often slept the latter way, and it had saved his neck on more than one occasion.

Mentally sighing at being woken much earlier than he would have liked, Dean waited until the boy was already off the mattress and across the room before opening his eyes. A part of him wanted to see what the child would do. Giving the boy the benefit of the doubt, maybe the child only needed to relieve himself or something.

Of course Dean certainly wasn’t surprised when the boy went over to his coat instead and began going through the pockets. The vampire waited. Not moving, just watching, until the child started for the stairs with the key to the basement door. No way for the boy to deny what he’d been about to do. Hand caught in the cookie jar.

As soon as the child started up the stairs Dean moved, quickly and as silent as a shadow. He came up just behind the boy at the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Just what do you think your doing?” Dean asked, adding a bit of a growl to his syllables. His eyes turning red and almost glowing in the semi darkness of the basement. 

* * *

Sam had been fumbling with the key, ready to put it in the keyhole when the man's growl came from behind him. Sam dropped the key, the sound of metal hitting the wood of the stairs loud in the silence of the room.

He turned around slowly, ready to let him know exactly what he had been planning, instead when he saw the red glow in the man's eyes. All his bravado left him, and he bent down slowly, hands shaking as he picked the key up. He held the key close to his chest, eyes somewhere near the man's chest so he wouldn't have to look into those terrible, horrifying eyes.

Sam was trapped. If he tried to go further up to the door, he was sure the man would kill him. If he came back downstairs, he'll be even closer to the monster. So he stood there, with a death grip on both sets of keys.

"P-please let me go," Sam whispered, so softly it was almost a breath. "Here..." He quickly pulled off the shirt he was wearing, putting it down next to him on the stairs. "Y-you can have your shirt back... can I please go now?" Sam asked again, hands clutched in front of his bare torso, risking looking up into the man's eyes, terrified of seeing them red again.

* * *

Well, it seemed his appearance had the exact effect Dean had planned on the child. When the boy turned around and saw him whatever defiance might have been there bled away like from an open wound and the boy turned nearly as white as a sheet. He had terrified the child, again. Was Dean proud of himself? No, not really. But the boy needed to learn, and quickly, there were reasons not to piss him off.

For a long time the child simply stood there on the stairs, trembling like a leaf, holding the set of keys against his chest like they would protect him. Then, finally, when the boy did move it was to take off his shirt? Dean raised an eyebrow a bit at that, surprised to say the least.

With an audible sigh Dean allowed his eyes to return to their normal green shade and waited for the child to look at him again before speaking.

“You’ve got nowhere to go.” He said simply, walking up the stairs and taking the keys out of the boy’s hands. “Put the shirt back on.”

With that, Dean turned and walked back down the stairs into the basement and returned the keys to his coat pocket. Then he returned to the mattress and laid down once more.

“If you try to leave again I’ll have to tie you up. Trust me, I can hear every move you make, even your heart beat. If you won’t sleep, at least be quiet so I can.” 

* * *

When the man took the keys away from Sam, he could have cried he was so frustrated. But all the man did was tell him to put the shirt back on and tell him to keep quiet.

After seeing those eyes, Sam wasn't planning on pissing the man off again... at least not in the near future. As the man went to lay back on the mattress again, Sam quietly made his way down the stairs with the shirt in his hands, keeping the man in his sight at all times. He pulled the shirt back on before he found himself a corner of the room, wedged between a storage shelf and some cardboard boxes. He sat down there, arms wrapped around his legs and his face buried between his knees.

Right now, he had to go pee, and he was so thirsty and so hungry. He thought of the lucky charms he had for breakfast and missed his Dad even more.

This man... he might have been nice to him, but at the same time he was keeping him prisoner, and threatening him, and scaring him.

Sam didn't like this man. Not at all. In fact, he hated him. This man said he killed his Dad, and then he had kidnapped Sam, and now Sam couldn't do anything at all. Sam curled into himself further, making himself as tiny as possible. He wasn't going to move. No. The man could do whatever he wanted. If he wasn't going to let Sam go, then he was going to have to leave Sam behind. There was no way Sam was going to move from this corner.

* * *

  
Dean watched the boy huddle down in a corner about as far away from him as the child could get and still be in the same room. The vampire said nothing about it, however. He certainly didn't expect the boy to trust him, and if it made him feel 'safer' to curl up in a corner of the room so be it. As long as he was quiet and let Dean sleep. 

"Use the bucket to piss in if you need to." Dean told the boy, almost as an afterthought, before he shut his eyes and fell back to sleep. 

The vampire slept till late afternoon. Not as long as he would have liked to, Dean hated the sunlight and usually didn't get up until well into dusk. But he could no longer ignore the boy's grumbling stomach so Dean finally opened his eyes with a sigh and sat up. 

He looked over to the corner and wasn't all that surprised that the child was still where he'd been when Dean had fallen asleep. Dean got up, fully awake in an instant, another advantage of being a vampire. He went over to the blankets he'd discarded last night and ripped a few more or less clean strips off of it. 

Then he crossed the room and knelt down in front of the child. Not giving the boy a chance to react, Dean grabbed his wrists and tied them together around one of the shelf posts. Not tight enough to cut off the circulation but certainly tight enough the boy wouldn't be able to wiggle free any time soon. Then he tied his ankles together as well. At this point Dean certainly didn't trust the boy to stay put if he told him to.

"I will be back in an hour or so with some food for you. Don't bother screaming, we're miles away from anyone or anything, I'll hear you long before anybody else does." Dean told the boy then stood up, grabbed his coat, and headed up the basement stairs.    


* * *

Sam moped the entire day, and during moping, he even fell into short, fitful sleep. When he woke up again, it was when the man was up and walking around and Sam braced himself, trying not to get scared again. Then the man was kneeling in front of him and before Sam could say anything, the man was tying his hands to the shelf.

"NOOO!!!" Sam shrieked as the man then tied his feet as well. What if something came in? Sam would be a sitting duck in here!!

Sam squirmed as much as he could as the man left. He looked down at the strips tying his wrists to the shelf post, and then the ones tying his feet together. And know what he realized? That his hands were tied in _front_ of him and not behind.

Sam smiled for the first time since he had met the man.

Using his mouth, he worked hard at slowly unfurling the knots. It took a while, because the man was clearly great at trying knots, but Sam was John Winchester's son, and he knew how to get himself out.

Once his hands were free, it was only a few more seconds to get his feet free and then Sam was rushing up the stairs, not surprised to find the door locked. Annoyed, Sam went back down and saw the boxes he had been piling up yesterday, the bars on the windows, and rusted bolts keep the bars in place.

Thinking hard, Sam started trying to push the metal shelving unit closer to the window, but it wouldn't budge. It was too heavy, and too big, and it was also the perfect height for Sam to get to the window... but still, it was too far...

Sam huffed and climbed on it anyway, getting to the top shelf and hearing the metal of the shelf groan. He really hoped the thing wouldn't collapse under him. He had to angle himself badly to try and get to the window, and he reached out to the side, fingers skimming the window just barely before the shelf groaned again under him and started tipping to the side.

"Oh crap!" Sam said and barely managed to get his fingers around one of the bars and hold on before the metal shelf crashed down. Now Sam was hanging off the barred window about three feet off the ground. Sam huffed, sneezing through the dust the shelving had kicked up and got his other hand on the bars as well. Then he put his feet on the wall in front of him, and gave a strong PULL. The bars budged but didn't move. Sam saw that one of the bolts was loose, twisting and turning and wiggling in its place, and so he got to work on that, loosening it slowly until it popped out of the wall. With one bolt gone, the weight of the bars was too heavy for the rest and the bars came off with a quick, loud clang.

Sam hadn't considered one big thing when he started removing the bars, that he was _holding on to them_. When the bars came off, so did he. He managed to land just to the side of the crashed shelving unit, because even at this age he knew if he had landed on the metal poles, he could have died or gotten paralyzed or something. But the fall made his slightly injured head throb again - he had forgotten about that - and nothing more.

When Sam looked up, the window was unbarred and beautiful in its dusty, rusty glory. With a latch.

Sam grinned widely as his stomach grumbled its displeasure. His thirst was getting worse, and he was hungry as well, but all that wasn't important right now. Sam piled up everything he could find in the room, including the mattress, to make his way to the window again and unlatched it. The moment the window opened, rainwater came pouring into the basement and Sam frowned. It was _still_ raining outside?!

Didn't matter, Sam decided, and squeezed his way through the tiny window, his butt getting caught for only a moment but he wiggled through. With Socked feet on the muddy ground and a huge shirt as his only protection against the cool rain and wind, Sam took off towards the road, running in the grass to protect his soles and hiding into the trees everytime he got scared that the man will find him. The road was empty though, and Sam kept waiting for someone to pass by so he could hitch a ride, but nobody came, so Sam kept running, then he slowed to a walk, and then... then he got distracted when he saw shelter in the trees as the rain got worse.

He made his way through the forest lining the road, keeping the road in sight at all times. Then he saw a puppy. Well, it looked like a puppy. It was wet, and miserable, and absolutely cute and Sam reached down to pet it, but the puppy pulled away, snarling at him in its high pitched puppy voice.

"Shh... I'm not going to hurt you," Sam whispered and reached for it again, but this time the growl was louder, and Sam swallowed, turning around slowly and coming face to face with a very wet, very angry wolf. Sam opened his mouth and screamed. Then he ran.

* * *

Dean didn't take the car. Maybe it would have been faster, and dryer considering it was still raining, but he didn't want to risk anyone seeing the car in case a description of it had been given to the police. So instead Dean took a 'shortcut' through the woods towards his nearest 'neighbor' a few miles away. With his speed he made the trip in a little under a half hour, and he wasn't even all that winded. Thankfully luck seemed to be on his side for once and the house was empty, its inhabitants probably still at work or something, since Dean didn't see a car.

He hadn't lived this long without being careful, however, so Dean still snuck up silently to the house, waiting and listening to make sure he really was alone, before slipping in through an unlocked window in the back. He found the kitchen easily and grabbed an empty trash bag from under the sink that he used to fill up with food. Not too much. Nothing that would be easily missed, a couple cans of spaghetti-o's, some beans, a can of spam, a half a loaf of bread, and a jar of peanut butter. After a moment of consideration Dean grabbed a half empty box of cereal as well. A bit more rummaging and he found some juice drinks and bottles of water which he took as well.

Finished in the kitchen, Dean decided to search the rest of the house as well. He didn't want to have to make another trip out any time soon if he could help it. There were definitely children living in this house if the choice of foods was anything to go by. Dean went upstairs and found what looked like a girl's room, then a few doors down, a boy's room.

He went inside and opened the drawers. The clothes looked like they would still be too big on the child but not as big as Dean's clothing at least. So Dean grabbed a couple of shirts from the bottom of the drawer, a pair of jeans, some underwear, and socks. He was leaving the room when he stepped on a toy car and after a moment of thought he picked it up and put it in the bag as well. Children liked toys, right? If it would keep the boy happy for a little while it was worth the risk of the toy's owner noticing it was missing.

Dean left the house otherwise undisturbed and made his way quickly back to the old run down farmhouse. All in all the trip had taken him a little over an hour, just as he'd said, and while something told him he shouldn't have been surprised with the scene he found when he got back, he was. The basement was in complete disarray. Shelves toppled over, their contents spilled everywhere, and most of the items that could be stacked were up against one wall below an open window. Most importantly the boy was gone…

Cursing loudly in anger, Dean barely resisted putting his fist through the cement wall. Fuck it! He should just let the boy run. What did he care? It wasn't like the child was his problem or responsibility. It was the fucking hunter's fault for leaving the boy alone in that room with no one to care for him. What did Dean care if the boy got lost in the woods and starved to death, or if he was found wandering along the road by some child predator? Chances were more likely someone would find him, hand him over to the police, who would then either return the boy to whatever family he had left or hand him over to child services if he had no family. He shouldn't care. He didn't care.

Then why was he dropping the bag of food on the floor and rushing back up the stairs, sniffing the air trying to get a scent of the boy. It was difficult in the still pouring rain but not impossible, and Dean started in the direction of the road quickly. The boy couldn't have gotten far. Even if he'd gotten out right after Dean had left, which Dean doubted, he only had an hour's head start. Dean could easily catch up with him. What was he going to do with the boy when he caught him? The vampire hadn't exactly figured that out yet.

That was when he heard the scream and Dean ran even faster. He caught sight of the boy running through the woods just as the child tripped on something, falling hard to the forest floor. Dean also saw what the child had been running from. A large and very angry she wolf quickly closing in on the fallen boy. The animal might have even been rabid. Whatever the boy had done to anger the wolf, Dean had no doubt the animal would kill the child.

Dean didn't even think. Putting himself in between the wolf and the child he growled viciously, but the wolf didn't stop. It barreled right into him, all snapping jaws and fury with enough force to knock him down to the wet ground.

* * *

Sam ran and ran and ran, not even glancing over his shoulder because he could almost feel the snapping of the wolf's jaws behind him. He didn't have enough breath left for screaming, so he put his head down and ran faster and faster until he stepped into what felt like a pool of water under the leaves and then he was falling forward, hands held out as he fell. His palms were skinned, and he was face down in a shit ton of mud, and there was a wolf jumping at him, mouth open and teeth bared.

Sam turned to look right at the moment that something came in between him and the wolf, and Sam was almost convinced he was dead.

Only... he wasn't.

The man Sam had been running from... he was here... and he was thrown to the ground by the vicious wolf. Sam scampered to his feet, rubbing his stinging, muddy palms on his dirty shirt and wondering how to help the man who had just saved his life.

Why did the man save his life?

Sam had no answer to that, and so he picked up a fallen down log, almost too heavy for him to lift but right now he was running on fear and adrenalin. One quick swing and he caught the wolf on the side of the head, stunning it.

"Get away from him!" Sam yelled, swinging the log again but missing entirely as the wolf jumped off, attention on both of them now. The wolf was snarling, fangs bared and snapping at Sam every few seconds. Sam wondered if the man was alright, and stood in front of him, not knowing why he wasn't just turning tail and running. This man, who Sam had thought wanted to eat him, had just put himself in between a wolf and Sam...

He knew that whatever this man was, monster or something else, he wasn't entirely evil. Well... unless the man was just angry that the wolf was going to eat his meal... but somehow, Sam didn't think so.

Sam swung again and this time the wolf grabbed onto the log with its teeth, tugging at it viciously, trying to dislodge it from Sam's hands. Sam's skinned palms stung horribly, scraping against the rough, soggy bark of the wood but he gritted his teeth and held on.

* * *

The weight of the wolf hitting him square in the chest and the resulting impact when he hit the ground momentarily stunned the vampire. If he’d been better prepared, managed to find his footing first, and if the ground hadn’t already been slick with mud he might have been able to withstand the attack but even he wasn’t invincible. He managed to at least get his arm up between his throat and the wolf’s snapping jaws so the animal only bit into the muscle of his forearm rather than his jugular. Dean hissed at the pain, his eyes red and his fangs bared, he grabbed a handful of the animal’s fur prepared to throw the beast off of him, but his leverage was bad and he didn’t get the chance.

The boy had hit the wolf with a large tree branch that had to be at least twice as big as he was and at least as heavy. Obviously the boy couldn’t put much force into the blow but it was enough to get the wolf off of him. Shocked didn’t even begin to cover it. Dean had expected the boy to get up and keep running, but instead he was swinging the stick like a makeshift baseball bat at the wolf trying to keep it away from _him_.

Dean shook himself out of his momentary paralysis and jumped to his feet. The wolf grabbed the stick in its powerful jaws, and in turn Dean grabbed the branch away from the boy. Pushing the child back behind him Dean yanked the branch out of the wolf’s mouth and swung it hard at the animal. It hit the wolf on the side of the head and shoulder, sending it sprawling with a yelp of pain. Dean roared viciously at the stunned animal and the wolf seemed to come to its senses, realizing perhaps he was maybe more than it could handle, it turned and ran back the way it came quickly.

The vampire growled once more and dropped the branch back to the forest floor, turning to look at the boy. With eyes that were still blood red and rows of fangs still descended he was sure he looked much more frightening than the wolf. His expression was not happy. 

* * *

At the wolf's retreat, Sam grinned, jumping up and whooping. But then the man turned around, eyes blood red and fangs out, face twisted in anger and Sam took a step back, happiness leaving instantly and fear taking its place instead.

Sam felt ice cold terror take residence in his chest again, and he felt himself pale. Hands began twisting in the muddy, soaked shirt he had on, wanting to run again but he knew that this man... monster... will catch him easily. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look at the twisted, monstrous face in front of him. Not knowing what to do now, Sam sank down to his knees, right there in the mud and pouring rain, hands coming up to cover his eyes and he waited for something to happen.

* * *

The boy’s face changed from relief and happiness to abject terror so quickly the brief spark of guilt he felt at being the cause of it surprised the vampire. Dean said nothing however as he watched the boy crumble to the ground, pale and shaking, hiding his face as though he fully expected Dean to rip his throat out now like the wolf had been planning.

It’s probably what Dean should have done. Simply turn the boy into a meal and be done with him, or leave the child here to fend for himself and find his own way back to civilization. It would serve the boy right for being so much damned trouble to him. But that wasn’t really the child’s fault. After all, Dean was the one who’d taken him in the first place. If Dean didn’t want the trouble of dealing with the boy he should have left him where he first found him.

Dean wondered once again for perhaps the hundredth time, what the hell was he doing?

The vampire growled under his breath, annoyed more at himself now than anything else, and allowed his appearance to shift back to mostly human, though his expression remained far from pleased. Once more he reached down and plucked the child up from the cold muddy ground and held him against his chest as he started walking back towards the farmhouse quickly.

They were both soaked to the skin and covered in mud and Dean needed to get the boy clean and dry before he became sick or something.

“Don’t do that again.” Dean warned in a low firm voice when they’d almost reached the farmhouse.

* * *

Sam expected to be eaten any moment, and when suddenly he was being lifted up, he whimpered, worried. When the pain didn't come, and instead he was pressed against the man's chest, Sam sniffled and shifted his grip, holding on to the man's shirt. He let the man carry him back, hiding his face in the man's shoulder and when they were almost at the farmhouse, Sam risked looking at the man's face. It was almost human again, even if the man still looked angry.

Sam's lips turned down, upset, and he buried his face in the man's shoulder again just as the man warned him not to do that again. Sam shook his head, but he didn't know if he'll try again or not. Right now, he just wanted to be warm and dry. He was hungry as hell, and thirsty beyond belief... just having those basic necessities was enough for now. Who knew what he'll do once he felt better again?

Once they were inside, Sam breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the rain. As the man carried him downstairs, Sam leaned back in the man's arms, looking at his face. He remembered the fangs and the red eyes, and he wondered...

Was this man a good person? Or a bad one? If Dad was hunting him, then he had to be one of the bad monsters... but then this man had just saved Sam's life...

Sam didn't know what was good and bad right now. But even though it had been barely longer than twelve hours since he had met this person, Sam was, unfortunately, beginning to feel safe with him. Which was stupid and if his Dad saw him now he would have made him run laps. This is so, so stupid. But as Sam stared at the man longer, and saw that this man had so much strength that he could snap Sam in half in a second but he hadn't... he hadn't even hurt Sam. Not even a little.

But this man had killed his Dad. And for that, there were no excuses and no defenses. Just for that, Sam could hate him for a lot longer.

"Why do you care?!" Sam asked, in his whiniest, most annoying tone. "If you're not going to eat me, let me go!"

The man had said earlier that Sam had nowhere to go. That wasn't true. There were times when Dad hadn't had enough money and they would camp out in the car. Sam could do that. And for food, he can steal. He could manage. This man didn't have to take care of him... and the whole thing was stupid anyway. Why _was_ the man trying so hard to take care of him??

* * *

When he felt the slight shaking of the boy’s head against his shoulder, promising he wouldn’t try to run away again, Dean felt something inside of him relax and it made him frown. He hadn’t been actually worried about the child, had he? Of course not, so far the boy had been nothing but a pain in his ass. Then again, he’d certainly run out into the pouring rain after the boy fast enough, throwing himself in front of a fucking wolf and getting himself bit for his trouble, a voice in his head whispered. Dean mentally growled at it to shut up.

The child certainly seemed to get over his silent fear of him quickly, much to Dean’s annoyance when the boy suddenly shrieked in his ear. Dean winced and finally set the boy down in the middle of the basement with a frown of displeasure. It certainly wasn’t because the boy was asking him questions that Dean himself had been asking and hadn’t been able to answer.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to shout in people’s ears?” Dean finally said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the boy. But found he couldn’t hold onto his irritation when the boy looked like a drowned and muddy rat at the moment, so Dean merely sighed and went over to shut the basement window and started rummaging through the boxes trying to find a semi dry blanket. Not an easy task considering they’d all been stacked underneath an open window with rain pouring in from the outside.

“Get out of those wet clothes.” Dean ordered as he pulled out a blanket that was a little damp but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, it would be easier to get the mud off the child that way. Rather than cleaning the boy off as he’d done last night, he simply tossed the blanket towards the boy, then went to the trash bag of things he’d stolen to take care of the child and pulled out some clothes for the boy, tossing those at the child’s feet as well. “Put those on. When you’re done you can clean up the mess you made, then you can eat.”

Dean went over to the fallen shelves, righted them, and then shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the shelf to dry. With a wince and examined the bite on his arm. The wolf had torn quite a bit of flesh and muscle but hadn’t damaged the bone. It was still bleeding a little but should be fine in a day or two. Dean decided to bandage it anyway, even if it didn’t need it, not wanting to risk the boy getting some of his blood on him in a cut or something. Opening up the first aid kit he dug out a roll of gauze and started wrapping it around his arm, glancing over at the boy to make sure he was doing what Dean told him. 

* * *

The man didn't answer his question, instead putting him down and telling him to clean up the mess. Sam pouted, looking at all the mess and knowing that it'll take him ages... There was rainwater on the previously dry floor, and everything was messed up... at least the man had picked up the shelving unit and closed the window. That would have been difficult for Sam.

He took off his clothes after cleaning himself as best he could with the damp blanket, putting on the new clothes that fit him a little better than the huge shirt he had on. It was still big on him, but he wasn't drowning in it. And the shirt had a picture of Tom the cat on it. Sam loved those cartoons. Sam grinned a toothy grin as he smoothed a hand over the cat's smug face before dropping his pants and boxers since they were soaked through and picking up the new pair of underwear. Not bothering with pajamas on top of the shorts, Sam dragged the mattress halfheartedly a little across the room before leaving it there and decided that the room was clean enough. Then he went for the bag of goodies the man had brought him.

There was cereal and lunch meat and peanut butter and juice and bread and water. There were some spaghetti-o's too! Sam's toothy grin got wider when he saw the rest of the contents.

His squeal of happiness could have shattered windows.

He grabbed the red toy car out of the bag, hunger and thirst forgotten as he jumped up with the car in hand, darting up the stairs with his feet heavy on the squeaky floors, and then he put the car on the railing and watched it zoom down and into the wall in front with a mighty crash, making Sam laugh loudly. The toy car was unharmed, other than for a few scratches on it, and Sam squealed again before thundering down the stairs, grabbing the car, and then running back up again.

* * *

At least the boy had cleaned himself up, Dean thought as he watched the child half heartedly pull the damp mattress away from the puddle near the window… and that’s it. The vampire almost said something. Almost told the boy to put the bag down and finish doing what Dean had told him to. But when the boy dug out the toy car from the bag with a squeal that made the vampire’s sensitive ears ring all Dean could do was stand there. He watched as the child began playing with the toy, ignoring the food in the bag even though Dean could still hear his stomach rumbling, and in spite of himself a small smile began to tug at his lips. If he’d known the toy would make the boy this happy, he would have stolen a couple more.

Shaking his head, more at himself because he was obviously losing his mind, Dean finished wrapping his arm then cleaned himself off and changed his clothes. Thankfully his spare clothes were only a little damp from the rain water that had gotten in through the window. Not that he’d get sick or anything, but he hated wearing wet clothes.

He then proceeded to finish the task that he’d told the boy to do, pulling the mattress back into the center of the room where it belonged. It was a little damp as well, but hopefully it would be dry again by the time it was needed to sleep on. He used some of the already soiled blankets to mop up the water on the floor then he tossed them into an empty box in the corner. It wasn’t like was going to take them to be washed or anything. He did the same thing to both his and the child’s wet and muddy clothing, the only thing he laid out to dry was his coat. He would have to get the boy a coat eventually, the air was chilly. Dean sighed as his mental list of things he needed for the boy just kept getting longer and longer.

Dean started to pick up some of the things that had been knocked off the shelves when they’d been tipped over, listening to the boy playing behind him. He allowed it for a while longer, but eventually stopped and turned to the child.

“You can play with that later. Eat and drink something, I can hear your stomach complaining from here.” Dean said before he went back to picking up the basement. Not that it had been all that clean to begin with, but he didn’t want to be tripping over things either. After a few more minutes a thought occurred to him that strangely enough hadn’t before. But now was as good a time as any to ask, he supposed. “What is your name?”

* * *

Sam was lost in the repetitive haze of him playing, running up the stairs, then back down, then up again, and then back down, until the man told him to eat something first. That's when he noticed that he was absolutely famished.

Abandoning the car to let it roll off after it's crash against the wall, Sam dug into the bag of food again, wondering what he wanted to eat.

He picked out the can of Spaghetti-Os, handing it to the man to open it for him just as the man asked him his name. Sam paused, surprised that they hadn't even introduced themselves yet... then again, he didn't see why they would have, considering that Sam had been sure earlier, and now he only thought of it as a rare possibility, that this man was going to eat him.

"Sam," he answered, sitting down cross legged on the floor, one hand in the box of cereal to eat directly out of it. "Sam Winchester, like the gun," Sam said with a grin before stuffing chocolate rice crispies in his mouth. "What's your name?" he asked, mouth full of half chewed cereal, but somehow he was still able to enunciate the words.

* * *

Dean took the can of Spaghetti-Os from the boy without comment and dug his pocket knife out of his jeans. Thankfully it had a can opener attachment on it, though Dean had never had to use it before.

The vampire nodded when Sam gave him his name, a part of him surprised that the boy had so easily. Maybe the boy was starting to trust him a little. Well, at least he wasn’t screaming and crying anymore. Of course he’d already known the boy’s last name was Winchester.

“Dean.” He answered the boy’s question. After wedging the can open he handed it back to the boy. “Don’t cut yourself.”

Dean went back to picking things up after that and decided it was clean enough in no time. Of course now that he was finished he felt a little at a loss as to what to do now. It wasn’t like he’d planned to come here and stay for any length of time. He only set these safe houses up to give him a place to rest and heal for a few days to a couple weeks at most, and usually he was sleeping during those times since he healed faster when he slept.

He didn’t feel much like sleeping now even though it was still daylight out, and he didn’t want to sleep on a wet mattress anyway. So what was he going to do now? More importantly, what was he going to do with the boy? That toy car wouldn’t entertain him forever, probably not even for a few hours.

* * *

Dean...

Sam decided that monsters shouldn't be named Dean. Dean was a hero's name. But then again, Dean had saved his life barely half an hour ago so... wouldn't that make Dean a hero?

Sam looked up at 'Dean', noting the tall and broad build and green eyes and dirty blond hair and the way he just oozed knowledge and power. Yeah, 'Dean' really did look like a 'Dean'. Like some kind of hero... or something.

Sam's lips turned down as he thought more. But 'Dean' had killed his Dad. How could Sam be sitting here eating food from the man who had killed his Dad?

Dean handed him the can of Spaghetti-Os back, but Sam's hunger was gone. Instead, his stomach was turning nauseatingly, and he felt like his chest was heavy. In a split second, he was missing his Dad again. Sam put his finger into the spaghetti sauce, the cold tomato sticking to his skin. He twisted the finger around, catching the spaghetti Os with it before mashing them up. The small amount of excitement he had felt for having a new toy was gone. In exchange for losing his Dad, he had gotten a shiny red toy car.

It wasn't fair.

Sam felt the lump in his throat growing, eyes getting wet again as his mental monologue of 'I want my Daddy' started driving him to tears.

"I'm not hungry," Sam mumbled before putting the can down and wiping his sticky finger on the shirt he was wearing. For a little while there, right after the meeting with the wolf and coming back and then the car and the Tom cat shirt, Sam had forgotten what this man had done. For a little while, Sam had forgotten that this was a monster who had killed his Daddy and now Sam was sitting here wearing the shirt he had gotten and the car he had brought for Sam eating the food the man had given him?

If Dad was still alive, Sam would be doing push ups for his stupidity.


	2. Chapter 2

  
The last couple of days had been a little slice of hell for Dean and had the vampire nearly constantly questioning his sanity. Had he completely lost his mind sometime in the last twenty to fifty years and not realized it? He must have because only an insane person would willingly put themselves through this kind of torture for no reason. Dean had also concluded that the child had in fact not belonged to the hunter but was instead some kind of demon spawn that the hunter just hadn't gotten around to killing yet.   


  
His first clue was what Dean was calling the 'food incident'. Namely, the child refusing to eat the food Dean had gotten for him, claiming not to be hungry or thirsty, even though the vampire could hear the boy's stomach constantly rumbling in displeasure. At first Dean had tried coaxing the boy to eat, and when that got him a stubborn angry response Dean had responded in kind. He didn't remember his actual words but it had something to do with shoving the food down the boy's throat himself if he didn't eat. That of course made the boy start crying and made Dean feel like an inch tall. 

The next day had been even worse, the child constantly screaming at the top of his lungs about everything and nothing until Dean finally lost his patience and left the basement all together leaving Sam locked inside. Of course Dean didn't go far, just out to the barn where the car was to listen to the radio for a couple of hours until he decided he didn't want to risk the battery dying. When the vampire finally returned to the basement he found the child fast asleep on a nest of blankets he'd made for himself in the corner. From then on that's where the child slept rather than next to him on the mattress. 

Sam didn't play with the car anymore, apparently that had been a one time thing, since the boy hadn't even touched it since. At least the child finally ate and drank something the second day, even though it was only when the boy thought that Dean was asleep. The boy constantly whimpered for his father and begged to be let go until Dean finally decided on the third day that he'd had enough. 

Dean didn't bother tying the boy up like he had the last time. He drugged him instead. Putting a little bit of a sleep aid from the first aid kit into his juice bottle and within minutes Sam was out like a light. Of course Dean made sure the bars on the windows were once again tight and locked the basement door before he went to the car and drove to town.

He left the car hidden on the outskirts of town and walked the rest of the way. It was still early but the morning papers were already available and Dean bought one before heading into the local coffee shop. He ordered a coffee but left it untouched as he read through the paper. In a town this size any kind of news was big news and he figured there would be something on the shootings even if he'd missed the last couple of days of news. He was right. 

It seemed the shooting at the motel, plus the murder of a young college student, was being pegged on one John Winchester. Apparently there were several weapons found inside the motel room rented to Winchester, as well as occult materials, and the man was wanted in several states for credit card fraud, assault charges, and for questioning in several unsolved murder cases. The body of the girl and Winchester was found by a farmer early yesterday morning, the suspect was an apparent victim of the wolf attacks that have been plaguing the area for some time. 

Dean felt himself relax reading the article. Just as he'd hoped, but there was no mention of Winchester having a son or a missing report for the child. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or annoyed by that. It meant that no one was currently looking for the boy, but it also didn't give Dean any ideas on what he should do with him. If the authorities were searching for the child Dean probably would have just dumped him somewhere, since he didn't need that kind of heat. But if the boy was unwanted by anyone…

The vampire sighed, folding up the newspaper and leaving it on the table along with his untouched coffee. He didn't return to the car, instead heading into another shop a few doors down. The child needed shoes. After buying a pair of sneakers he thought would fit the boy and a few other clothing items, Dean headed back to the car. Though not before stealing a set of license plates off of a car sitting in a junk yard just outside of town. 

Replacing the license plates on the Impala, Dean got in the car and headed back to the farmhouse. The boy was still asleep when Dean arrived, so Dean gently picked him up and carried the boy out to the car without waking him. He put the child into the passenger seat and took a few minutes to make sure that the passenger door could no longer be opened from the inside before he got back into the car and started to drive.    


* * *

Sam didn't trust Dean. Not by a long shot. And the last few days had been a new set of hell. Instead of getting tired of Sam and letting him go, Dean held on tight and stubborn, threatening about forcing food down Sam's throat, which Sam was very angry about, and keeping him in front of Dean at all times. It was annoying, because Sam wanted another chance to run.

He wasn't being given that chance.

It was on the third day when Sam felt suddenly sleepy after drinking the juice. He forced himself to stay awake as much as he could but about fifteen minutes after drinking down the mixed fruit drink, Sam was out like a light, passed out on the cement floor with eyes moving under thin lids and fingers twitching. When he woke up again, he was in the Impala, curled up in the seat like so many times before. Sam mumbled something that wasn't coherent even to him and twitched again, eyes feeling like they weighed a ton. As he slowly started waking up, he saw Dean sitting in the driver's seat, and the car was moving.

Yawning widely, Sam shifted to sit up straight before looking at Dean again, just blinking for a few moments.

"Where are we going?" He asked as consciousness started returning to him again. He swung his legs where they were hanging off the seat. "Are we there yet?" He asked again, before Dean had a chance to answer. "How much longer till we get there? How long have you been driving? Are we there yet? When do we get there? Where are we going?"

And with that, he opened the glove compartment in front of him, spilling credit cards and bullets and papers all over the seat. "Oops," he said, not sounding very sorry at all.

* * *

Dean had been driving for a good three hours before the boy in the seat next to him started to stir. As much as the vampire had been enjoying the peace and quiet, he was a bit relieved. The child had been rather still except for an occasional sleepy snuffle for so long he’d been a little afraid he’d given Sam too much of the sedative earlier. Of course now that the boy was awake, talking, and generally being a huge pain in his ass Dean wished he had given the child a stronger dose.

“You know, most people are smart enough _not_ to piss off a vampire intentionally.” Dean growled, giving the boy beside him a death glare that seemed to affect him less and less lately.

“Clean that shit up.” The vampire added, turning his attention back to the road and pointedly ignoring the boy’s questions, turning up the volume on the tape player instead. 

* * *

Dean shot Sam a glare, which Sam ignored because all Dean did was glare at him, and if he got really mad, he'll roar, but that's it. Hell, _Dad_ was stricter on him. Dad had been able to, with one look, make Sam do whatever he wanted him to do. Dean didn't have that power.

So... vampire, huh?

Sam's eyes narrowed. He had that urge again. The one that told him to be as much of a pain as possible. And worse than that, he didn't just want to cause mischief, he wanted to make Dean angry enough at him that he would throw Sam out himself.

So Sam leaned back against the door, and then kicked the gear shift with his foot hard enough that it moved, causing the car to screech and whine before the gears started grinding and it started slowing down. And before Dean could do anything else, Sam aimed the next kick right to Dean's face.

Sam had just realized something. No matter where Dean took him, he'll stay a prisoner. Outside of the basement and in this car, he was closer to freedom than he had been in three days, and he was going to take this chance.

When Sam pulled his leg back to get another kick in, his only thought was 'this is what I think of your stupid order' before he let it fly towards Dean's nose.

* * *

Right about now Dean was really wishing he _had_ overdosed the child on sleeping medication. He also should really stop being surprised just how much trouble the boy could cause in such a small amount of time.

The kick to the gear shift truly was shocking however. Did the boy want them to get into a fucking accident, or what? Dean didn’t even have time for his customary string of curses at the child as he rushed to get the car back into the correct gear before the vehicle was permanently damaged. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere and the last thing he wanted was to have to _walk_ with the boy in tow.

His efforts were hampered however by the next kick the child aimed for his face, and while it didn’t really hurt it made his temper flare just a little higher. Dean finally managed to get the car back in the right gear, right as Sam kicked him again, the boy catching him just right this time to actually do some damage.

When Dean felt his nose snap so did the last fragile hold on his anger. With a vicious roar, eyes blood red with fury, Dean backhanded the boy hard. Hard enough to draw blood by the smell of it, and while Dean could usually go a week or more between feedings he was angry enough now that his restraint was pretty much zero.

With a hard yank on the steering wheel Dean pulled the car quickly over to the side of the empty road then he turned to the boy slowly. His eyes still red, his rows of fangs descended, and blood dripping from his nose over his lips he knew he looked like a monster but he didn’t care. He licked the blood from his lips and smiled in a way that was not in the least bit kind.

“You want to die so badly? Fine.” Dean said softly, and almost quicker than the eye could follow he reached out and grabbed the boy, yanking him closer, and sinking his teeth deep into the meat of the child’s arm.

* * *

So Sam had become a little bit secure in the knowledge that Dean wouldn't hurt him. He yelled, roared, glared, tied Sam down, but he didn't actually hurt him.

How wrong was Sam?

When the back of Dean's hand connected with Sam's face, Sam didn't even have a chance to scream or cry or anything. For a moment, there was no pain as he was pushed back into the seat, face numb and vision swimming. Then his face went ice cold, then burning hot, and then the pain came. Sam's nose was bleeding and he had cut his cheek rather badly when the soft skin had pressed against his teeth. Even through the pain, Sam was stunned. Then Dean was talking, and all Sam could hear were gurgled words, the ringing in his ears keeping him from hearing too well.

When Dean grabbed his arm, Sam tried to pull away, true fear this time as he yelled and kicked, but Dean was quick and then there was a sharp pain in his arm, one that rivaled the pain in his face.

Sam screamed, grabbing onto Dean's hair with his free hand and yanking them while he tried to kick Dean again into letting his arm go. The angle was bad, and all he could do was kick the glove compartment over and over again while Dean's mouth, and teeth from the feel of it, were on his arm.

Tears streaming down Sam's face, Sam started crying wordlessly, fingers still twisting in Dean's hair to try and push him away, but they had no effect. Gradually, Sam started getting quieter, crying silently still while he kept pushing at Dean's hair until he stopped doing that too and just sat there, crying miserably, rubbing at his bleeding nose and mouth with his free hand while trying to pull away his other arm from Dean's viciously sharp teeth. His face hurt horribly, pain coming and going in waves, and his cheek was starting to feel hot and swollen, pressing against his teeth uncomfortably.

Right then, Sam had only one thought in his head. He hated Dean.

* * *

Dean ignored the screaming. He ignored the kicking. He ignored the pulling on his hair. He ignored the tears. The harder the boy pulled on his hair, trying to force him to let go, the harder he bit the child. The more Sam struggled to pull his arm away from him, the firmer his hold became, not letting the boy move an inch out of his grasp. The longer the child screamed, the longer Dean drank the blood flowing from the vicious bite he'd made in the boy's arm.

It wasn't until the boy stopped struggling… mostly… stopped trying to tear his hair out, stopped kicking and screaming, that finally Dean relaxed his bite and withdrew his fangs from the boy's arm. He hadn't taken much. Probably not even enough to make the child light headed. Actually killing the boy hadn't been his intention anyway. It had been a lesson.

Dean pulled back but he didn't release Sam's arm from his grip, not yet.

"Remember this the next time you feel like testing my patience. Next time I might not stop." Dean growled, his lips and teeth still stained with Sam's blood, his fingers digging bruises just a little deeper into the boy's flesh before Dean finally released him.

The vampire finally turned his red gaze away from the boy and looked in the rear view mirror. His nose wasn't badly broken at least. It would probably heal in a couple of hours, if that. Dean adjusted it a little, just to make sure it would heal straight, then pulled the car back onto the road and started driving again as though nothing had happened.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that he spoke again.

"Now, pick that shit up." Of course meaning the mess Sam had made earlier.

* * *

The pain in Sam's arm was nearly excruciating, with Dean's teeth digging in deeper and deeper until finally, Dean pulled back. Blood rushed into his arm and made the pain worsen for a moment until it ebbed down to a steady burn.

Sam was still crying, cheeks wet and eyes red and puffy from it. His face hurt horribly, arm throbbing, cheek swelling and he had never been this miserable before in his life. Dean's threat then... it wasn't taken lightly. Sam shrank away from him, the constant thrum of fear in his blood roaring now. As Dean started driving again, Sam held his wounded arm close to himself, tears falling faster when he saw the kind of damage Dean had done to it. The two spots where Dean had broken the skin were bright red in the center, blood oozing slowly, and the skin around it was mottled and red, the color slowly turning darker.

Dad had never hit him. Ever. Even when Sam had tried his patience. Even when he had thrown tantrums and kicked and yelled and cried. When Sam had gotten too much for Dad, he used to leave Sam alone for several hours, and when he came back, Sam had quietened again.

He had never gotten this much hurt the entire time he had been with Dad, except for that one time when he fell off the tree, but that was Sam's fault, not Dad's.

Dean's barked order got Sam reaching for the mess in the footwell and on the seats. Sam worked slowly, movements lethargic from all the crying. His vision was swimming with tears as he picked up the numerous ID cards, each with a picture of his Dad on them. There were FBI badges and driving licenses and credit cards and everything. As he started putting everything away, he found one that was named 'John Winchester', and Sam kept it with him, missing his Dad more than ever.

If Dad had been here, he would have gutted Dean for hurting Sam like this.

Holding the card to his chest, he closed the glove compartment and curled towards the door, wanting to be as far away from Dean as possible. He clutched the card in his good hand, holding his hurt arm close to his chest while gingerly touching the swelling on his face. He cried the entire time, nothing more than soft sobs and quiet hiccups. Sam knew one thing now though. He'll never, ever, ever talk to Dean again. Ever.

* * *

Several hours later Dean’s anger had finally faded and he didn’t like the emotion that had replaced it.

Guilt.

He didn’t like the feeling because it was the boy’s own damned fault. Sam had been pushing him for days, doing whatever he could to be as difficult as possible. Attacking him, even breaking his fucking nose… Then again, so what? It wasn’t like the boy could actually do him any real damage, and Dean had… Bad enough he’d hit the boy but then he’d bitten him, his only intention to cause pain. When he killed it was to defend himself or to feed, and now he had hurt a small child for no damned reason…

The silence in the car after that was absolute. When the tape in the player finally ran out Dean didn’t bother to change it. That was two hours ago. Every once in a while his eyes flickered over to the boy huddled as far away as possible from him, cradling his wounded arm, tears and blood streaking his face once more, and Dean felt his guilt and shame increase.

Finally when it was early evening Dean realized he hadn’t even bothered to feed the child yet today, and mentally cursed himself. If he thought he couldn’t feel worse over what he’d done, he was proven wrong.

The next sign for a rest stop he saw he pulled off the road. Thankfully there were no other cars in the parking lot, and there looked to be a bathroom facility. He hoped there were vending machines as well.

Dean got out of the car, went around to the passenger side, and opened the door. Not trusting the boy not to try to run if he let him walk, and not wanting to hurt the boy more in an attempt to catch him if he did, Dean picked him up again. Making sure to be careful of the boy’s wounded arm as he went around to the trunk and got out the first aid kit, before heading to the rest stop bathrooms.

Once inside he locked the door, making sure no one could come in just in case someone else showed up at the rest stop, and sat Sam down on the edge of the sink.

“Let me see your arm.” 

* * *

Sam stayed as quiet as he could the entire time. He wasn't going to provoke Dean into hitting him again. The first time had hurt badly enough, he didn't want a repeat. But the entire time he stayed quiet, his dislike for Dean increased. Not only had Dean killed his Dad, he had then kidnapped Sam, imprisoned him in a shady basement, repeatedly tried to scare him into submission, and when that failed, he had gone and hurt Sam. Badly too.

Sam's face hurt so much. But not as bad as his arm.

The blood on his arm had clotted already, and the skin around it was a pattern of black and blue. There were even impressions of Dean's fingers digging into his forearm, and Sam tried to keep his tears as silent as he could.

When the car stopped, Sam only glanced once outside to see that it was just a stupid rest stop. Sam had been to a million of them. Dean got out of the car, and for a brief moment, Sam breathed easier, the fear lifting as the distance between him and Dean grew... until Dean was suddenly outside his window and the fear returned, worse than before. Dean was way too close for Sam's comfort.

Sam was torn between wanting to fight Dean again, not wanting to go with him, and terrified of being hit. So he stayed pliant as Dean picked him up. He kept his arm close and his face turned away from Dean the entire time, until he felt cool porcelain through his pajamas and saw Dean in the harsh fluorescent lighting of a stinky bathroom.

Then Dean demanded to see his arm and Sam had a vivid recollection of Dean's teeth sinking into his arm, feeling like they were tearing through everything. Sam's face twisted into misery again, fresh tears leaking out of his eyes as he held his arm tighter against his chest, shaking his head quickly, not wanting to defy Dean again so fast, but he was scared that this time, Dean might just eat his arm. And Sam liked his arm. Both of them.

* * *

Sam didn’t give him his arm. In fact, the boy held it even closer to his chest as though trying to protect it, fresh tears falling down his already damp face. The boy thought that Dean was going to hurt him again.

Regret… Dean hadn’t felt it, truly felt it, in such a long time he almost didn’t recognize it. Before Sam might not have liked him, but at least the boy had trusted him to some small degree. Now it was pretty obvious the child did not trust him at all. Maybe that shouldn’t have mattered to Dean, but for some reason it did.

For as much as he’d tried to scare the boy into submission, now that Sam was truly afraid of him…

Very slowly, trying not to scare the boy even more, Dean raised his hand and gently wiped away the tears from Sam’s non bruised cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“What I did was wrong. Let me take the pain away at least. Please.” Dean whispered softly. 

* * *

Sam flinched when Dean reached for his face, but Dean's touch was gentle, and his voice soft. Sam was just surprised that Dean hadn't just pulled his arm and done whatever he wanted to.

It was mostly Dean's soft voice that did it. The tone made Sam feel like Dean didn't intend to hurt him, not right now anyway, and so Sam slowly, hesitantly, offered Dean his arm. It was still tense, ready to pull back at the slightest threat, and it wasn't too far from Sam's torso either. But it wasn't pressed up hard against his chest anymore, and Sam thought that was more than enough.

Sam also had to go pee really badly, but he wasn't about to tell Dean that. No. He wasn't going to talk to Dean ever again. Ever. He pinky swore to himself.

* * *

Dean practically held his breath while he waited for the boy to show him his arm. Eventually, very slowly, Sam moved it away from his chest and towards him. Barely a few inches, and the boy’s muscles were still ridged with tension and he stank of terror, but he still showed him what Dean had done to him. Progress…

The vampire winced slightly seeing the wound. It was ugly, and he might have even damaged the muscle underneath the flesh. It was probably excruciatingly painful, and Dean felt the knife of guilt and shame twist in his gut just a little deeper.

Dean knew there was something he could do to take the pain away almost immediately, as well as make the abused flesh heal much quicker, but given what he’d done to the boy earlier he was afraid of freaking the boy out again. But if he didn’t do it, then the flesh and muscle would take a couple weeks at least to heal and the boy would be in pain most of that time.

The vampire knelt down and took the boy’s wrist in one hand and his elbow in the other gently, so Sam couldn’t jerk away from him and hurt himself more.

“Easy. I won’t hurt you.” Dean said softly, since it seemed to work the last time. Then, very slowly, he leaned forward and ran his tongue over the punctures and the wounded flesh around them on the boy’s arm. He did this quickly and efficiently and pulled back, releasing Sam’s arm afterwards, but he could already see the redness around the wounds beginning to fade.

“Feel better?”

* * *

Sam was ready to pull his arm back, his fear increasing in leaps and bounds the closer Dean came to his arm. Dean knelt down, holding his arm gently. Sam quickly jerked his arm back, but Dean's hold on it kept him steady, and his soft voice kept Sam from freaking out further... until Dean was leaning in again, his mouth opening, and Sam couldn't keep the shout of terror inside. He yelped, trying to jerk his arm back but it didn't work. So Sam squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain... but it didn't come.

Instead, a coolness spread through his arm, taking away most of the pain and the small amount left over was more like an imagined ache.

Sam opened his eyes, one eye at a time, and saw that instead of biting or eating his arm, Dean was licking it quickly and pulling back, releasing Sam's arm. Sam pulled it back gingerly, looking at the wound with as much confusion as interest. The swollen skin around the bite marks was less red, the bruising was already lighter, and there was a thin, almost transparent, layer of skin over the bite wounds themselves.

Sam looked up from his arm at Dean. He swallowed several times before licking his dry lips. All the crying had made him dehydrated, and he had to pee at the same time. He guessed it was lucky he hadn't peed himself even when he was terrified.

"I have to pee," Sam said softly, nearly whispering instead of answering Dean's question. His quiet voice was hoarse with the screaming and crying he had been doing, but now that the pain had receded somewhat, leaving only the pain in his cheek and jaw, he felt slightly better. He was still miserable, but now he was just barely better enough that he could realize that he was hungry and thirsty, and that his entire body ached from being tense for hours.

* * *

Dean waited, kneeling on the cold linoleum floor, looking up at the boy sitting on the edge of the sink. In the end Sam didn’t answer his question but he knew that the pain in the child’s arm had to be lessened now. Thanks to a little trick that most who were not vampires did not know about, how their saliva had the ability to heal, even mortals. In fact, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Sam was now the only non vampire that knew about it. Gross, yes, but still effective.

When Sam finally spoke, saying he needed to use the bathroom, Dean’s lips curved up a little and he nodded. Standing up he then helped the boy down from his perch on the sink.

Of course Dean did not watch the boy, but he remained inside the bathroom by the sink, and the door, to make sure that Sam did not try to run again. While he waited for the child to finish his business, Dean opened up the first aid kit and found a portable ice pack.

He crushed the chemical package, waiting for it to get cold so the boy could use it on his cheek to hopefully help with the pain and swelling. 

* * *

Sam hadn't expected Dean to leave him alone in the bathroom... and then he sort of _had_. So he _was_ and wasn't surprised when Dean just stood there by the door, eyes averted. He had seen the rather large window on top of the toilet seat the moment he had come in, but his chances of climbing out with Dean standing there were highly unlikely.

And he really did have to pee.

Sighing softly, Sam aborted the escape attempt and just answered nature's call. Five minutes later, he was washing his hands in the very sink he had been sitting on. He used the water to wipe his nose, finally removing the remnants of sticky blood from it. The water was cold, and it felt good on his heated skin. He looked up at Dean, who was so tall Sam came up to only his waist, and remembered the monster he had become in the car. In his memory, Dean was even huger, pressing against every wall of the Impala, long fangs dripping with blood, eyes glowing red and face twisted into an ugly monstrous thing...

Sam knew now he shouldn't have gotten comfortable with Dean. Even if he wasn't a monster all the time, he was still a monster.

Dean was eventually going to eat him, Sam knew that now. Dean was just waiting to fatten him up, like in Hansel and Gretel, and then he'll roast Sam and eat him. Today, Dean had lost control, and Sam got to see the kind of damage he could do.

Sam ignored Dean as he went past him to the locked door, reaching up to unlock it before opening it. He didn't rush through it, in case Dean got the idea that he was trying to run, but Sam couldn't be in this small place with a monster anymore. It felt stifling, and his terror was magnified in here. A dingy, rest stop bathroom with a flickering halogen light was somehow more terrifying than being in the same car with Dean.

* * *

It was pretty obvious the boy was ignoring him now. Sam took care of business, washed his hands and face, and then finally scooted around him to the door. The only real acknowledgement the boy made that he was even in the room.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he watched the boy boldly unlock the bathroom door and slip outside. The vampire couldn’t help feel a flicker of amusement at that, even despite the situation. The boy had balls, he gave him that. Dean allowed him to go without comment as he closed up the first aid kit once more. It wasn’t like he couldn’t catch the boy easily if he tried to run, Dean thought as he followed the boy back outside.

Maybe the boy would feel a little more secure if Dean loosened the ‘leash’ a little bit and let him walk around a little outside. It was relatively ‘safe’ here, the rest stop empty and very few cars on the road to begin with. Hopefully the boy wouldn’t do anything stupid and if another car did stop he’d just have to hustle Sam back into the Impala quickly.

“Don’t go far.” Dean said by way of a warning and tossed Sam the ice pack he’d prepared. “Put that on your face.”

Then Dean headed over to the vending machines that were surprisingly well stocked for being out in the middle of fucking nowhere. Nothing inside was very nutritious of course, mostly candy and some nuts, but it was better than nothing. He wondered what the boy liked, but figured children weren’t all that picky when it came to candy. As Dean dug some change out of his pocket and popped it into the machine he sniffed the air occasionally, always knowing exactly where the child was. 

* * *

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as Dean let him walk out with only a warning to not go too far. No, Sam won't be going too far. He knew that the only time he could really escape was when Dean wasn't anywhere nearby. Somehow, Dean always seemed to know where he was, no matter how distracted Dean was, or how out of sight Sam was.

Sam held the ice pack between his hands, feeling the chill of it through the plastic pack. he gingerly held it to his swollen cheek, then cringed when the heated skin came into contact with the cold. Slowly, he held it against his cheek longer and longer until the cold started making the pain disappear. Dean went around to the vending machines and Sam went back to the Impala and sat down on the hood, peeling his threadbare socks off his feet. They weren't doing much protecting anymore, and Sam was going to need proper shoes soon...

Sam sighed, holding the cold pack harder against his cheek. He missed his stuff. He had these Spider-man sneakers, and a ragged teddy bear that Sam called Mr. Polosky, his sweater and his jeans and his toothbrush and his blankie that he'd had since forever...

Sighing again, Sam slipped off the car's hood, landing on the hard asphalt with bare feet before he took the socks to the nearest garbage can, throwing them in. They were useless now, and they stank bad enough to offend Sam's nose all the way from his feet.

He looked down on his Tom the cat shirt. It was starting to get pretty dirty too, and just today, there were drops of blood added to the grime on it. His pajamas as well. His arm was looking like he had been in an accident, even if it was getting better by the minute, and Sam's hair were greasy enough to fry an egg in them.

He returned to the Impala, waiting for Dean to come back, and in the meantime he got to his knees in the dirt near the car, the icepack resting on the ground as he drew stick figures in it with a stick he found laying around. While he did that, for just a moment, he forgot about all the things he wanted and needed, and instead focused on creating stories in the dirt.

* * *

When Dean returned with his purchases from the vending machines to the Impala it was to find the child playing barefoot in the dirt. It reminded him of the shoes and other clothing items he had bought for the boy when he’d made his trip into town that morning. That he’d then forgotten to give to the child. Then again, it had been a rather eventful day, so he could probably be forgiven for it having slipped his mind.

Or not.

With a nearly inaudible sigh Dean deposited the Snickers bar, Skittles, and Doritos he’d bought on the hood of the car, along with some kind of red drink that claimed to be made from real fruit juice though Dean doubted it. He’d have to buy real food later.

“Have something to eat.” Dean said, trying not to make it sound like an order, more like an offer, before going around to the trunk of the car. He pulled out the bag of clothes he’d bought for the boy and proceeded to pull the tags off of a shirt, a pair of jeans, socks, and the shoes. Dean could already smell that Sam’s socks had been thrown in the trash and decided they might as well do the same with the rest of the boy’s clothes. Dean knew from experience that blood was a bitch to try to wash out.

“Here, put these on.” The vampire said as he dropped the clothes onto the hood of the car as well.

* * *

Sam looked up when Dean told him to eat something. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that the last time he had eaten or drank anything was last night. Noting all the candy on the hood of the car, Sam stood up, dusting off his pajamas and padding over to the car with bare feet on cool asphalt. He picked up the juice drink first, not bothering to see what fruits were in there before he twisted the cap open and started downing it. The sugar burst on his tongue, and his thirst and hunger peaked. Up until now, they were like background noise, but now that he was actually drinking something, he felt like he was going to die of thirst. He downed the entire bottle in one go, some of it dribbling off his chin and onto the already dirty shirt.

After he was done sucking off every last drop of the drink, he noticed the clothes Dean had laid out in front of him. Sam's eyes widened. Why would Dean buy him clothes? Didn't he just want to fatten him up to eat him? That was a stupid waste of money...

Sam reached for the clothes slowly, eyes on Dean as much as the clothes in front of him. He touched the shirt, soft under his fingertips, then the crisp new jeans, the new, thick socks, and then... then, the shoes.

"Batman?!" Sam said with glee before he could stop himself. The shoes were black, with a white batman logo stitched to their sides. He grabbed the shirt next, a simple white shirt with cartoon monsters made on it and the words 'Little Monster' written on the back. Fully approving of the clothing, even if he didn't approve of the man who had bought them, Sam grabbed all of them and shuffled off to the bathroom. He wasn't going to change outside in front of everyone! And it was getting cool outside too.

Inside the bathroom, he washed his feet first before putting on the new socks. The socks were fluffy and warm and Sam didn't want them to get dirty already. Then he put on his shoes, which were a little large, but Sam was used to growing into his things. After he was dressed in his socks and shoes, he dropped the rest of his clothing, standing there butt naked while he tried to wash the grease out of his hair with hand soap. It didn't do the job perfectly, and Sam had to climb on one sink to get his head under the tap of another, but he managed to get relatively clean before getting into his new clothes.

When Sam walked out of that bathroom, he smelled of antibacterial soap, his hair were standing in every direction, and he was hopping every other step because, bruised cheek and stiff face aside, Sam was really enjoying being relatively cleaner. He still stank of sweat, but his hair wasn't itchy anymore.

Not to mention, Sam hadn't ever had new stuff before. Ever. Dad always had to buy Sam's clothes in second hand stores...

It was when he saw Dean that he lost some of that excitement, because Dean? Was really starting to confuse him.

He walked up to Dean, standing a good four feet away from him before asking him the one question that was plaguing Sam.

"Why'd you buy me new clothes?" Sam asked quietly, afraid of angering Dean again and getting hurt when he had only just started feeling a little better. His question meant many more things. Buying clothes, specially new ones, meant that Dean was planning on keeping him around for a long time. Not only that, but new clothes meant that Dean liked him... which made no sense, because Sam had one very painful cheek and one healing arm that said that Dean did _not_ like him in any way.

* * *

Dean watched the boy polish off the juice drink, practically without stopping to breathe, and he decided he should probably buy a few more bottles from the vending machine before they hit the road again. The child ignored the candy however, despite his growling stomach that Dean easily heard, in favor of examining the clothes that Dean had laid out.

The vampire wasn’t sure why he should feel slightly nervous as he waited for the boy’s reaction. They were just clothes, after all. But when the child let out an excited squeal seeing the shoes Dean had bought him Dean smiled in spite of himself.

It seemed Sam approved of Dean’s purchases since he didn’t argue in the least as he grabbed up the clothes and shoes and headed back into the bathroom to change like Dean told him to. Dean sat down on the hood of the Impala to wait for the boy, wondering why the boy’s approval of the items mattered to him at all.

Once more Dean couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to do with the boy. He couldn’t possibly keep the boy indefinitely. A child was not a pet. Dean couldn’t drug the boy or tie him up every time he had to leave the child alone. Not to mention he couldn’t keep the boy hidden forever, and he couldn’t take the boy into public without risk of him causing a fuss and drawing unwanted attention to the vampire. He didn’t want to always have to worry about the boy escaping and the boy would always need food and water and other things Dean simply didn’t need on a daily basis…

He realized he also couldn’t simply drop the boy off somewhere anymore. While a police officer or a social worker probably wouldn’t believe Sam’s ramblings of a vampire killing his father and kidnapping him, the child still knew what he looked like and could give the police a description of him, making Dean’s life difficult with the authorities. Not to mention the possibility of making his life more difficult with hunters too if they got wind of the boy’s story. That was something Dean definitely didn’t need.

There of course was a third option… one that Dean found himself surprisingly unwilling to contemplate. He could always simply kill the boy. He might not like feeding from children but a meal was a meal, and with very few other options… It wouldn’t have been an issue at all if you’d simply left the boy where you’d found him, Dean reminded himself with a frown.

Dean looked over when he heard the bathroom door open and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The child’s hair was wet and sticking up every which way, but he looked much better, cleaner for sure, and maybe even happier. Which, again, shouldn’t really matter to Dean but for some reason it did. Dean had to wonder if he was going through a mid life crisis or something…

Some of the child’s excitement seem to fade when his eyes fell on him, but the boy still walked up to him, standing fairly close and addressed him directly instead of simply ignoring him. Progress he supposed. Unfortunately he wasn’t sure how to answer the child’s question. He finally shrugged a little.

“Because you needed them. Don’t you like them?” 

* * *

Dean's answer was not an answer at all, and young as Sam was, he knew the art of avoidance. He could spot it from a mile away. After all, Dad had spent most of Sam's young life dodging his questions before Sam figured out about the monsters by stealing Dad's journal.

Sam scowled, lips turning down as he tried to force his annoyance down.

"I don't need _new_ clothes," Sam said, voice tinged with more than a little irritation. "Dad never bought me new clothes. They're a waste of money. We can buy bullets and food and a room for the night with that money." Those words were not his, but his Dad's. There had been many times when Sam had wanted something from the grocery store that they didn't need, and this is exactly what his Dad said. He had said those exact words so many times to Sam that the small child could recite them in his sleep if needed to.

Sam looked down at his new shirt, smoothing his palm over the cartoon monsters drawn on it. His lips twitched, unable to keep the small thread of approval in. "They're... they're nice, though," Sam said, quieter. "Thank you." He _was_ grateful. All his clothes were second hand, bought from goodwill or secondhand stores. Even his teddy bear hadn't been new. Dad had brought it once on the way back from a hunt, and Sam hadn't been allowed to touch it till Dad had thrown it into a washing machine on the hottest setting. Hell, even his books for school were secondhand, with the answers already filled in so Sam used to sit down and erase all the answers before a new semester of school.

Having new things... was nice.

* * *

It was obvious that Dean’s answer had upset the boy but the vampire didn’t understand why. However it became a little clearer to him as Sam went on. The boy’s father hadn’t bought Sam new things because they couldn’t be afforded. That did not surprise Dean in the least, given the life hunter’s led. It must have been very difficult to raise a child while also being a hunter… Dean couldn’t help but why John Winchester had done it. Who would drag a small boy into that kind of a life?

So to Sam the fact that Dean had bought him something, several things actually, brand new was significant… He supposed in a way, it was significant even though Dean hadn’t really thought about it at the time. While Dean wasn’t poor, far from it, the vampire could just have easily gotten something for the boy at the Salvation Army, or stolen them like he had before, or simply not gotten anything at all for the child.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.” Dean said, surprised that he meant it.

With that Dean stood up from the hood of the car, stretched a little, and then nodded towards the junk food that had been sitting so far untouched beside him.

“You should eat something. We’ll stop for better food in a bit. I’ll get you some more juice and we’ll go.” He said and started back towards the vending machines but stopped. “Do you want to pick out something yourself?” 

* * *

Sam gave Dean a small smile when Dean accepted his gratitude. He started reaching for the skittles when Dean asked him if he wanted to pick out something for himself from the vending machine. Sam's hand stilled, looking up at Dean with surprise and a little bit of the glee that he felt everytime Dad had asked him the same question.

Sam was having a lot of difficulty deciding if he liked Dean or hated him.

He nodded slowly, falling into step beside Dean as they made their way to the vending machines. There were about four machines lined up right next to each other. One of them had drinks with water, Coke, juices, everything in it. Another one just had candy, and then there was another one that had chips and packaged cookies and pretzels and stuff. The fourth one Sam had no interest in. It was selling lots and lots of energy drinks and cold coffee.

Sam's stomach growled as he looked at all the food. He wanted the orange juice, and Coke, and cookies, and chips, and he wanted pretzels and candy and everything!

Sam licked his lips as he grabbed Dean's hand, small fingers only managing to grab about three of Dean's fingers before Sam tugged him towards the juices. "Can I get the orange juice? Please?" Sam asked, one hand still holding Dean's while the other was pressed against the display glass of the vending machine. He wanted more stuff though. Like those chocolate chip cookies looked very good. And the chips machine had barbecue chips in it, and Sam loved barbecue chips. But Dean had said 'something' and not 'anything', so Sam stopped himself at the juice. He really wanted orange juice. It was his favorite. And there was a lot of food back at the car anyway. There was that snickers bar Sam had his eye on, and the skittles, and Doritos. Sam loved Doritos.

Sam turned and gave Dean a wide smile that made his achy cheek ache, but right now his stomach's growl was more important than his confusion about whether he should treat Dean as friend or foe.

* * *

Apparently Dean had done something right because the surprise then happiness written clearly on the boy’s face was obvious. So they walked together back to the vending machines. Dean shortening his stride and walking slower than he normally did so that Sam could keep up with him.

Dean watched in amusement as the boy’s large expressive eyes darted from the contents of one machine to the other. Normally he wasn’t the most patient man, but he found he didn’t mind waiting at all as Sam decided on what he wanted from the machines.

Finally Sam grabbed his hand and led him over to the drink machine. Dean was so stunned by this, the child actually touching him of his own free will and not dropping his hand immediately afterwards, that he was a bit slow to react to Sam’s request. Orange juice. Right. Dean dug out the correct amount of change and put it into the machine, and punched in the correct number to dispense the juice.

The smile Sam gave him afterwards was infectious and he couldn’t help returning it even as his confusion grew. Dean had lived for a long time and he wasn’t often he felt this way, confused as much by his own reactions as Sam’s actions. Why it made him so happy that Sam was happy…

“Anything else?” 

* * *

Sam let go of Dean's hand to grab the orange juice bottle when it fell through the opening. He held it close, one hand working distractedly on the cap, trying to open it, when Dean asked him the magic question.

"Cookie!" Sam said loudly, giving Dean a toothy grin that had about two teeth missing, one on each side. "And BeeBeeCue chips!" Sam called them B-B-Q, instead of barbecue even though Dad had corrected him numerous times. Sam just found it easier to read it the way it was written, like how he called Arkansas like R-Kansas, and Jalapeno poppers with a 'J'. And with that, Sam opened his mouth and tried to open his juice bottle with his teeth, getting his spit all over the cap when he couldn't do it with his hands. Those sealed bottles were too tough for Sam sometimes.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but laugh loudly when he got an immediate, and very excited, answer to his question. Nodding he started to move to the next vending machine when he saw the boy was having a bit of trouble opening his juice.

“Here.” Dean said, reaching for the bottle before the child broke off a tooth or something trying to get it open. He loosened the cap, wiping his hand that was now wet from the child’s saliva off on his jeans, and handed it back to the boy before going back to the vending machines.

Cookies, he found those easily, but the vampire was a little confused what BeeBeeCue chips were… then he saw the barbeque flavored potato chips and chuckled softly. Dean was reaching for the chips after they fell to the bottom of the machine when he heard what sounded like a tractor trailer coming down the road heading for the rest stop.

“Let’s go.” He said, holding out his hand for the child to take before he realized what he was doing. 

* * *

Sam held his treasure close to him with one hand, the bottle of juice held tight in the same hand as the cookie, and when Dean held out his hand for Sam to grab, he didn't think before he was slipping his little hand into Dean's much larger one. It was force of habit. Everytime Dad held out his hand like that, Sam held it no matter what.

Sam tried to drink from the bottle on the way to the car, having some orange juice drip down his arm which Sam was very enthusiastic about licking again. The entire time, he was more focused on the food than what was going on around him until he heard the loud sound of a car door closing. Sam wondered why he wasn't yelling and begging for someone to save him from Dean, now that he actually had another adult here who might be able to do something and save Sam... but right now, Sam's hands were curled around all the goodies Dean had bought him and he was wearing clothes Dean had gotten him and Dean was holding his hand tight and warm...

Somehow, Sam didn't think he really wanted to get away. Not right now anyway. Right now, he was getting tired.

So he held Dean's hand tighter, and followed him to the car without any fuss. He even hid a little behind Dean's leg to keep the man from looking directly at him, something he had only done with his Dad when he felt shy in front of strangers. He stayed quiet as the man got down from his tractor and greeted Dean jovially, "Good evening to ya!" He said, happy as he could be before he smiled down at Sam when he noticed the child trying to hide behind Dean. "Shy one, ain't he?"

* * *

Dean led Sam quickly back to the car, every step they took he expected the boy to pull away from him, to try to run, to shout for help. Every step he was surprised Sam didn’t. Unfortunately even though he’d quickened his steps a little and the child managed to keep up with them, they didn’t make it back to the car before the truck had already parked and its driver was getting out.

Fuck.

The vampire fully expected Sam to cause a scene like he had at the motel and Dean would be forced to kill this man as well. While Dean certainly didn’t have a problem with killing, he tried to avoid doing it unnecessarily. When dead bodies started piling up people took notice, hunters took notice, and given they weren’t all that far from where he’d taken Sam from…

But instead of trying to pull away from him and begging the stranger for help, Dean felt the boy’s fingers tighten around his hand… and Sam hid behind _him_. Dean was so stunned it took a moment for him to answer the man.

“Evening. A little shy, yes.” Dean replied with a nod, guiding Sam over towards the car and opening the passenger door for him with his free hand. Finally releasing the boy’s hand to run his fingers lightly through Sam’s still damp hair, smoothing some of the wayward locks back into place. 

* * *

Sam let Dean do as he wanted, his attention more focused on the packaged cookie. He swatted away Dean's hands when they tried to smooth down his hair, and the tractor driver watched the exchange with a grin on his face.

"You're a handsome one, aren't ya?" The man said to Sam before looking at Dean. "I got my own little rascal. Four years old, he is. Best age there is," he commented amicably, before he looked down and his eyes caught the bruise blooming on Sam's face. The man frowned, some of his good mood slipping into suspicion.

"What did ya do there, little guy? Walk into a tree or somethin'?" The man asked, gesturing to his own cheek to signify Sam's. Without thinking, Sam reached up to his cheek, poking his skin and hissing when it hurt. "Where's his Mama?" The man asked Dean, frowning slightly but an awkward smile was still stretched over his face, like he couldn't decide if he should be wary of Dean, or if he was just mistaking something completely innocent for something darker. After all, children got hurt all the time. They were prone to accidents and mischief... and this little boy's father and him looked to be getting along fine. The boy was absorbed in his candy anyway...

Maybe he was just overreacting.

* * *

Just great, the truck driver was apparently the chatty type. Dean should have just ignored the man rather than returned his greeting, maybe then the other man would have went on with his business and left them alone. Now he was hanging around and trying to talk to them both while the vampire was trying to hustle the boy into the car before Sam remembered exactly why he was supposed to hate Dean.

Dean mentally cursed a blue streak when the truck driver asked Sam about the bruise on his face. Maybe he was going to have to kill the man after all…

But Sam didn’t say anything, even though he touched his cheek and winced in pain. Dean hoped he managed to keep the flash of genuine guilt he felt off of his face as he helped the boy get settled into the passenger seat with his treats from the vending machine.

Seeing how Sam struggled to open up his cookie Dean helped the boy tear the package open. Hopefully that would give the child something to do with his mouth rather than talking.

“Just a little accident, thankfully looks worse than it is. It’s only us.” Dean answered the other man, his tone implying that he did not want to discuss the matter further and he would let the truck driver make his own assumptions as to why. The best lies were often the simple ones. Dean shut the Impala door and went around the front of the car, gathering up the food that had been left there on his way to the driver’s side.

“Good bye.” The vampire told the man as he got into the car, moving slow enough so it didn’t look like he was rushing. As he slipped the keys into the ignition Dean watched the other man carefully from the corner of his eye. If it looked like the man suspected something… Dean was going to have to take care of him. He couldn’t risk the man trying to contact the police trying to report him for child abuse… or worse, kidnapping.

* * *

Dean opened the cookie for him, and Sam grinned again, his bruise forgotten as he dug his fingers into the soft cookie and took out a piece with chocolate chunks decorating the surface. The man outside was being nosy, and Dad had always warned Sam of nosy people. Nosy people called Child Protection Services. Nosy people could get Sam and Dad separated.

But Sam and his Dad were separate… and Dean was running around with him, taking him god knows where, and he was feeding him chocolate chip cookies to keep him docile.

It was very good cookie though.

Sam was bundled into the passenger seat, his Doritos and his BBQ chips and his juice bottle all following him inside.

The man outside frowned at Dean’s abrupt goodbye, but his smile didn’t fall. It was already stilted enough as it was.

As Dean slipped the keys into the ignition, the man tilted his head, studying the car before his eyes settled on the license plate. Just in case, the man thought, as he turned and walked towards the bathroom to relieve himself before he got a drink. The child looked comfortable though… but there was no harm in having the car’s license plate number in his head.

* * *

Dean started the car but hadn’t put it into gear yet when he saw the man studying the car’s license plate. It was a good thing that Dean had already switched them out, but he could tell this man was going to cause them trouble.

Damn it.

He watched the man heading for the bathrooms and Dean shut the car off again, looking over at Sam happily munching away on his cookie.

“I’ll be right back, ok? I forgot something in the bathroom.” The vampire said easily. He was lying of course but Sam wouldn’t know that. Dean got out of the car and locked the doors before heading quickly back to the bathrooms. He didn’t have much time.

When he got there the trucker was already finishing up his business and Dean didn’t hesitate. Before the man could even turn at the sound of the bathroom door opening, the vampire was behind him and he snapped the man’s neck easily. The man’s dead body had barely hit the ground before Dean was leaving the bathroom and heading back to the car, smiling at Sam even though the boy was still mostly engrossed with his cookie.

Dean got in the car, put it in reverse, and pulled out of the parking space, heading back to the main road.

“So, what would you like to have for dinner?” Dean asked, even though the boy was surely spoiling whatever appetite he might have on all the candy he’d bought for the child. 

* * *

Having a hunter for a Dad had molded Sam in a different way than most other six year olds. Sam was smarter and more mature in the respect that he was aware of consequences, and knew what death meant, and knew that there were things that would rip him apart if he got too sloppy. But regardless of this, Sam was still a six year old, and so sometimes things that should have been very obvious didn't really register with him.

Like how anyone older would have known immediately that the nice, too-friendly trucker wasn't ever going to walk out of that bathroom again.

Sam? Had chocolate smeared all over his mouth and on his hands and was concerned that his cookie was over.

Then Dean asked about dinner and Sam knew immediately what he wanted.

"Happy meal!" He said, bouncing in his seat a little. He loved Happy Meals, and Dad hadn't minded because they were cheap and available everywhere. And lately, Sam had seen the ads for the new Happy Meal toys, and they were giving away tiny little plastic robots in each meal with stickers that you could put on them yourself. "You can have my fruit cup," Sam informed him wisely. "But I get the cherry," he added. Sam liked the fruit cup. And even more, he liked the cherry. But since Dean had been so nice to him, and he had given him a cookie and talked nicely to him and hadn't yelled at him after the whole thing earlier, Sam was willing to be nice right back. So, he was going to share his fruit cup.

* * *

Dean chuckled at the boy’s enthusiastic response. He should probably be glad that the child appeared to have simple tastes. Cookies, candy, and Happy Meals all it took to make him happy. Dean would have probably been in real trouble if the boy had asked for something a little more exotic for dinner, but thankfully McDonalds were everywhere.

“Happy Meal it is.” Dean replied and made it a point to keep an eye out for the very distinctive golden arches. Somehow he had a feeling that Sam would probably spot them long before he did, even with Dean’s vampire enhanced vision.

When Sam offered to share his fruit cup with him, Dean was definitely surprised. Even though they’d been getting along pretty well for the last… fifteen minutes… or so, Dean didn’t think they were on sharing terms. Especially considering the day had started out very badly and certainly the boy hadn’t forgotten it since his cheek must still be smarting.

Unfortunately, Dean hadn’t been able to eat human food for over two hundred years. The only time he’d tried was a very painful experience as his new body completely rejected the food almost immediately.

“Thank you… but I can’t eat it.” Dean said softly, genuinely regretting he couldn’t accept the boy’s offer for a variety of reasons. Namely the reason for his refusal would be yet another reminder to the boy that he wasn’t human, that he was a monster, because Dean couldn’t eat human food. But also because he had a feeling the offer had not been made lightly, at least not from the child’s point of view.

“But I appreciate the offer. You’ll just have to enjoy it for me.” Dean added, giving the boy a smile. 

* * *

Dean's refusal for the fruit cup made Sam frown. Dad always says 'tit for tat' which Sam doesn't understand exactly what it means, but it has something to do with doing something for someone who's done something for you. And Dad also always taught him about owing someone. If Sam counted all the incidences till now with Dean, they had been doing this 'tit for tat' thing. But Dean taking care of him was weighing more in favor of Dean than Sam. Which Sam didn't like.

But Sam's cheek still hurt, and his arm was almost back to normal except for the bruising that was also fading quickly, and Sam didn't know what to do.

"Why can't you eat fruit? Would you die if you ate fruit? Are you allergic to it? Do you only eat people?" Sam asked, now very curious. "Daddy doesn't like fruit either, but he says he does because he wants me to eat it because he says it'll make me big and strong. But how can fruit make you big and strong? It's so fruity. Anyway, so I know Daddy doesn't like fruit because he always slips his fruit cup into my meal, and I've only ever seen him eat apples so I know he likes those. He hates grapefruit though. So much that he won't even let me eat them. Which is fine because they're bitter anyway..." Sam kept up a constant stream of conversation as he put some chips in his mouth, talking through the chewing and spraying a few soggy crumbs. "He says I should drink more milk, but milk is so..." Sam made a face. "But I like it with my cookies, and with my pancakes. Dad makes awesome pancakes, did you know? He always burns them on one side, but he tries. He didn't how to cook at first, but he's been getting better. He still burns the cheese in mac'n'cheese though. Dad says Mommy was a great cook."

Sam was quiet for a few moments as he thought about Dad, and about the way their life had been. Then he thought about Dean, and he was confused again. Why was it that slowly, since the past few days, his terror of Dean was reducing slowly - not counting this morning - and his need to get away from Dean was diminishing as well. But his need to annoy Dean to an inch of his life _was_ increasing, so there was that.

"I had a dog once, I called him Pudgy because he was _fat_ and lazy and if you poke him he would fall over. Dad didn't like him. He said that it would be difficult to move a dog around with us," Sam started again, swinging his legs as he concentrated on his chips and his story. "But I think Dad really did like Pudgy but he just-" Then Sam's swinging foot hit the glove compartment and it snapped open, the contents spilling out.

There was a beat, one second in which nothing happened... and then Sam went ashen. He remembered the feeling of Dean's hand hitting his face, the feel of Dean's teeth sinking into his arm, and here, barely a couple of hours after the first incident, the glove compartment had fallen open again, throwing everything to the floor.

The fear was sudden and all consuming, and Sam's hands let go of the packet of chips he was holding, adding to the mess in the footwell. Fresh tears welled up in Sam's eyes as his body went ice cold, then burning hot. In his state of terror, he tried to kick the glove compartment close, but the loose latch wouldn't hold with the hard kicks Sam was delivering to it. It kept snapping open and everytime it did, Sam's panic grew worse until he was hysterical.

This time, Dean would eat him. Sam was sure of it.

Vision blurring, hands shaking and mouth open as he let out wail after horrified wail, he kept kicking the glove compartment until he stopped thinking and went completely out of control. Forgetting the glove compartment, Sam turned towards the door, hands fighting to get the door open because he had to get out of here before Dean ate him up.

* * *

Dean shook his head in response to Sam’s questions, though he wasn’t exactly sure how to answer them. He had the feeling the child really didn’t want to know what he ate, even if he was curious now, it would probably only scare the boy again. Turns out he really didn’t need to answer because the boy started to ramble on about his father, food he liked, and a dog of all things. The vampire merely smiled faintly and concentrated on driving; only half listening to the boy’s tales he only realized the sudden change in Sam’s demeanor because the child had grown suddenly silent.

By the time he looked over to see what was wrong he saw the glove compartment was once again open, its contents spilled everywhere, Sam suddenly white as a sheet and terror rolling off him in waves. Dean was confused for a moment until he realized that Sam must think he would be angry about the mess. That he’d been angry about the mess before and that’s why he’d struck and bitten the boy. While it was true Dean had been a little angry at the child’s stubborn bratty behavior, he’d only lost his temper because the boy had kicked him in the face and broken his nose.

“Sam, it’s ok. Calm down. Sam…” Dean tried to reassure the boy it was fine, he wasn’t mad, but the child wasn’t hearing him. He was kicking the hell out of the glove compartment, probably only breaking it more, and didn’t seem to hear or understand him at all. Terrified sounds turning into near screams that made the vampire’s ears ring and he didn’t know what to do. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Suddenly Sam was grabbing for the door, trying to get out, and even though Dean had already made sure the doors couldn’t be opened from the inside he was afraid the terrified child might try to go out the window next. Dean slammed on the breaks, the car fishtailing a little as he got them over to the shoulder. He still had no fucking clue what to do to calm the child down, however at least he wouldn’t run the car off the road trying to figure it out.

Dean did the only thing he could think of. He caught the child around the waist and pulled him away from the window, holding him securely in his lap in hopes he could at least keep the boy from hurting himself.

“It’s ok. Easy. It’s alright. I’m not mad. Calm down.” The vampire repeated those words and other nonsense in what he hoped was a calming tone. Awkwardly adjusting his hold to rub the boy’s back and gently pet his hair as he waited for the child to either calm down or wear himself out.

* * *

Sam howled and kicked and screamed, and when he felt Dean's hands grab him around and waist and pull him away, Sam's terror only increased. This was it. This is when he gets eaten. He squeezed his eyes shut, screaming increasing in volume until he was pressed up against a warm, hard chest and Dean was... Dean was rubbing his back?

Sam's tantrum slowed down not because he was starting to relax and trust that he won't be eaten, or because he was getting tired, but because he was so, so confused.

Then Dean's hand was in his hair, his voice soft and soothing, and Sam shifted slightly to sit better in Dean's lap, legs on either side of Dean's thighs instead of twisted on one side where he had been dragged from. He looked up, every other breath a hiccup and with tears running down his cheeks, but there wasn't fear in his eyes anymore but curiosity.

Once he was convinced that Dean wasn't going to turn into a monster and eat him, Sam's hiccuping relaxed a little and reduced to sniffles instead. He leaned forward, resting his head against Dean's chest again, just for a few moments because... well, it felt nice.

"I spilled my chips," Sam said, morose, words muffled against the leather of Dean's jacket. "Can I still have my Happy Meal?" He whispered quietly, tears still streaming down his cheeks, but he wasn't sobbing anymore.

* * *

At first Dean was sure he wasn’t doing any good at all. In fact, he was pretty certain it was only making the child cry and thrash harder. Which was completely understandable, He was a fucking monster after all. What the hell did he know about comforting a child? Especially when he was also the one who’d kidnapped that child and killed that child’s father. So, yes, pretty damned stupid to think anything he could do would have any impact on the boy’s terror, but that didn’t mean he still wished Sam would cut him some fucking slack here.

Finally after what felt like a small eternity, but what was probably only a few very painful ear splitting minutes, the boy’s cries started to quiet down and he stopped thrashing. Dean honestly didn’t care why or how it had happened, if the boy had just worn himself out or if anything Dean had done had made a difference, he was just glad it had stopped. Dean continued to gently pet the boy’s hair and rub his back just in case that had anything to do with making the boy stop crying.

When the child finally moved again he figured it was to get out of his lap, and Dean was prepared to let him go now that Sam seemed a little calmer now, but instead he was shocked when the boy pressed closer to him. It felt… awkward. Dean hadn’t known what he was doing before, and he didn’t know what he was doing now any better. But he kept his arms held loosely around the boy anyway, his fingers running rhythmically through the dirty but still soft strands of the child’s hair because it did seem to be helping after all.

Sam’s comment about the spilled chips almost made Dean laugh, he really _must_ have lost his mind at some point because none of this was even remotely funny. The only reason he didn’t was because he was afraid of doing anything that might send the boy back into hysterics.

“We can get some more.” He said reassured instead, and when Sam asked if he could still have a Happy Meal Dean did smile a little then. “Of course.”

Since the boy was more or less calm now he could probably go back to his own seat, so why was he so reluctant to put the child down? Yes, completely insane. It was the only explanation. Instead Dean shifted enough so he could rummage through some of the spilled contents from the glove compartment till he found what he needed; an assortment of fast food napkins which he then used to start cleaning off the boy’s chocolate and tear stained face. 

* * *

Sam smiled a little when Dean said they he could still have a Happy Meal. Even if he wasn't too hungry anymore, he still wanted the toy.

He sat still as Dean wiped his face, and he made faces when Dean scrubbed too hard, or when he wanted to get away. Eventually, they were done and Sam sat there on Dean's lap for a few moments more, fingers fiddling with the lapels of Dean's jacket. Sam couldn't decide anything about Dean. He was getting mixed signals. Did Dean hate him or not? Why was Sam here? Was Dean going to eat him or not?

Just a few hours earlier, Dean had hit him _so hard_ that his cheek still hurt and his eye felt weird, and then he had bitten him and it had hurt so, so, badly... and now Dean was holding him gently in his lap and had just cleaned his face and told him that he wasn't angry with Sam... And then he was going to buy Sam a Happy Meal and... Sam didn't get it.

If Sam was counting right, then he had been with Dean for four days now... but it felt so much longer than that.

"Can I also play in the ball pit?" Sam asked softly, eyes on his fingers that were still playing with Dean's jacket. Dad hadn't liked Sam going into the ball pits, because he found it hard to keep track of Sam in the huge mass of colorful balls and the maze that came with it, and Sam playing in the ball pit meant that they had to stop at the restaurant for a long time. Usually, Dad always went to a drive through anyway rather than go to the restaurant. He had told Sam once that in the restaurant, there could be danger anywhere and Dad would have had difficulty protecting Sam if something came for them. So Sam had stopped asking.

Sniffling softly, Sam leaned forward and rested his cheek on Dean's chest. He wasn't crying anymore, but he still felt pretty upset, so he let himself be held in the loose circle of Dean's arms. Monster or not, Dean was very comfy, and Sam realized that he gave nice hugs even if he had hurt Sam earlier today. Sam sat like that for a few more moments before sliding off Dean's lap and back into his seat. He looked morosely at the mess of chips and cards and napkins. He didn't want to pick them up, but if Dad had been here, that's what he would have told Sam to do. So he picked up everything and stuffed it in the glove compartment, pushing it hard to make the lock latch and even then, the hold was tenuous. Sam worried his lower lip as he saw that he had broken the compartment.

* * *

The boy sat mostly docile and let him clean off his face without too much squirming. It wasn’t the best job and there were still a few places where chocolate was smeared around Sam’s mouth but Dean knew wouldn’t be coming off without a good amount of soap and water. At least the child looked slightly more presentable now. Slightly.

Then Sam was asking him if he could play in the ‘ball pit’ at the McDonalds. His voice so soft and hesitant that if Dean didn’t have vampire heightened senses he probably would have had difficulty hearing the request.

Honestly, Dean didn’t think it was a very good idea. He’d only been planning on going through the drive through to get Sam his food and then finding a motel room they could crash at for a while. Actually going into the McDonalds meant there would be people there. People, who would see him and Sam together, see the dirty and bruised boy, and the last thing Dean needed was a repeat of what had happened back at the rest stop. Killing one random truck driver at an empty rest stop was bad enough. Having to slaughter a whole room of people at a McDonalds if things went badly was definitely not something Dean wanted to risk.

As he pondered how to let the boy down in a way that wouldn’t cause another round of crying or hysterics, Sam rested his cheek against his chest once more and Dean sighed softly. The boy was making it really difficult for Dean to deny him anything. He wondered if Sam was doing it on purpose? Playing him? But, no, he still seemed genuinely upset and seeking… comfort… from him. That was such a strange concept.

Eventually the boy slid off his lap back into his own seat. Dean still hadn’t answered the boy and he realized as he watched Sam start to clean up the mess from the glove compartment that the child probably took his silence as a refusal. Dean probably could have just left it at that. Said nothing. Started driving again.

Dean sighed again as he shifted gears and pulled the car back onto the road. He knew he was going to regret this.

“All right, we’ll stop and you can play in the ball pit. If you promise to behave yourself, and when I say it’s time to leave, you don’t argue. Deal?”

* * *

Dean's silence had told Sam fairly well that it wasn't going to happen, and it was fine. Dad didn't let him play in the ball pit either, and Dean was, after all, his kidnapper. What had he been thinking asking Dean that?

But then Dean said yes. Yes! And all Sam had to do was promise to behave himself. He could do that.

Sam smiled a small smile at Dean, nodding. He would have grinned, but he was still a little upset from everything that had happened that day. His eyes were red and still wet, a random tear falling every so often, and his nose was red and swollen. But he was happy because he was going to get to play in the ball pit and Sam hadn't played in the ball pit in a long, long time. Not in many, many years. Not since that one time when he was in a ball pit during a hunt and Dad was watching him and then Dad found the monster he was hunting _in the room there_ and it took Sam almost a whole five minutes to crawl through the maze tubes and get back to Dad, during which time the monster had run away again.

Dad hadn't been angry. Not at Sam, anyway. But he didn't let Sam play in the ball pit again. In fact, they hadn't eaten in the restaurant for a while, instead going through the drive-thru.

Sam sat quietly the rest of the drive. He was afraid of damaging the glove compartment more, so he just folded his feet under him and sat up on the seat instead. He spent majority of the time fiddling with the door lock and the seat belt, trying to be as little of a nuisance as possible. It was easy, because most of the time he was planning all the games he was going to play in the ball pit.

Sam squealed when he saw the golden arches of McDonald's a few minutes after they had entered a town. He clapped twice, his sticky fingers sticking with each other but Sam didn't care. Soon enough, he was going to be wading through a sea of colorful, plastic balls. Sam bounced in his seat as Dean pulled the car into the parking lot, and barely managed to hold still long enough until Dean had unlocked the doors. Then Sam was off into the small restaurant that was seeing it's dinner hour rush. Inside, Sam left Dean's side almost immediately and went headfirst into the plastic tube connecting the outside to the ball pit.

* * *

When the boy nodded, promising to behave himself, Dean relaxed a little but he still thought this was a stupid idea. Sam had behaved rather well at the rest stop too but that had still turned out rather badly. That hadn’t really been Sam’s fault however; it had been Dean’s for giving the child a shiner in the first place. Still, he should have said no, at least until Dean had been able to take care of the boy’s face properly so he wouldn’t set off alarm bells to every ‘concerned’ parent they might encounter.

It was too risky. Stupid and risky. Plain and simple.

Then why had he said yes? Dean knew better than to take stupid risks like this. At least, he normally knew better. It seemed like ever since he’d found the boy in the motel room stupid and risky things was all he seemed capable of. Then again, if he kept the boy happy it would be less likely the child would throw a screaming tantrum at a moment that would be very inconvenient to the vampire.

Dean snorted softly to himself. Like Sam wouldn’t decide to do that anyway at the McDonalds despite the fact that he’d promised to behave himself. Maybe the boy had only behaved himself at the rest stop because he knew a single man, not even a hunter, was no match for a vampire. A room full of people at a public place however? That was a different story. What if the boy screamed bloody murder the second they were in the restaurant? What would he do?

Dean was beginning to rethink his decision. To just keep on driving when he saw the familiar golden arches despite his promise to get the boy a Happy Meal and let him play in the ball pit. Even if he was risking the child never trusting his word again…

Sam’s sudden excited squeal from the seat next to him pretty much killed any hope he had that the boy wouldn’t see the restaurant. Dean knew he shouldn’t have glanced over at the boy at the noise because then he had to see just how happy and excited the child really was. In spite of the vampires arguments with himself he found himself pulling the car into the restaurant’s parking lot.

Dean was really glad that he had rigged the car’s doors to only open from the outside because he had a feeling if he didn’t Sam would have been out of the car before it even came to a complete stop. As it was, he was practically having to chase down the boy into the McDonalds, Dean forced to apologize to a couple coming out of the doors when he nearly ran them over.

Before Dean could suggest they go to the restaurant’s bathroom first to clean Sam up a little, the boy was already gone. Dean sighed and shook his head, following after at a slower pace. Thank goodness for a vampire’s sense of smell that let him pick out the child’s scent even in the fairly crowded restaurant. Dean found an empty table close to the play area where he could keep an eye on the child while he played. 

* * *

All that sugar Sam had consumed finally came in handy. Sam climbed through the network of plastic tubes, sliding into the ball pit, throwing colorful balls at random unsuspecting children, and then he was rushing through the tubes again. The ball pit stank heavily of sweaty socks, for some reason, and there was a mild smell of throw up, but Sam didn't care. He waded through the balls, glee in every movement until finally, _finally_ he started getting tired. He climbed up the rope ladder to a bright pink tube, and then slid down it to outside the pit.

He found Dean sitting right in front of the play area, keeping an eye on him, so he padded over to him.

"Happy Meal?" He asked hopefully, looking up at Dean with big eyes. Dad called them his 'puppy dog eyes' and Sam knew that everytime he used them on Dad, he could get away with murder. He wondered if it would work on Dean. While he was working on turning Dean into his slave, he noticed an exit behind the play area, to the side that the employees were using.

Sam wondered...

Was it possible for Sam to escape while Dean was getting him a Happy Meal? Sam _was_ hungry though... but if he didn't take this opportunity he was sure it would be difficult to come by another chance where he was out of Dean's sight for even a minute...

And there were a lot of people here... he wondered if one of them would be willing to take him to... to... to Uncle Bobby's! He lived in South Dakota, Sam knew that much, but where exactly he didn't know. Then again, how big could South Dakota be? And if he could get to Uncle Bobby, he was sure Uncle Bobby would help him find Daddy. Maybe Dad wasn't dead. Maybe he was just lost and looking for Sam. Uncle Bobby would know.

Now Sam's attention was both on Dean, and on the exit. He knew he was going to take this chance. It might be his only one. Even if Dean had been nice to him for the last couple of hours, he was still a monster and he could eat Sam at any moment.

* * *

Dean sat at the table, watching the boy play, and enjoyed the… well, not exactly peace and quiet, but he enjoyed not having to be responsible for entertaining the child for a while. His efforts back at the farm house were rather poor at best and usually ended up with the boy in tears and Dean frustrated and ready to slam his head into the nearest hard surface. So this was definitely more preferable.

The child’s energy seemed endless, probably due to all the candy Dean had bought for him earlier, and the vampire was very glad that Sam was burning it off here and now. While he waited for the child to get bored or hungry enough to return to him he listened to some of the conversations going on around him to see if they were drawing any unwanted attention. Except for the group of teenage girls whispering amongst themselves about how cute he was and daring each other to go over and talk to him, Dean was pleased to find they were pretty much being ignored by the other patrons.

Finally after about forty five minutes Sam returned to him asking for his happy meal with a look that was probably meant to bend Dean to his will. Dean couldn’t help but laugh softly and nod.

“Sit there.” Dean replied, pointing to the chair across from the one he’d been sitting in and stood up himself. Then he made his way towards the counter with the registers to order the boy’s food. The lines had thinned out some since they’d come in, dinner nearly over, so thankfully there wasn’t as long a wait. 

* * *

Sam nodded when Dean told him to sit down and wait for him. This was perfect. Dean's seat was close enough to the play area that Sam would reach the exit in three seconds flat. Sam perched on the seat, watching Dean head towards the lines. The moment Dean's back was turned, Sam darted towards the exit with the bright red 'EXIT' lit above it. Sam pushed it open and slipped out. He ended up in the store room that had a large door open in the back. There was a man standing in front of some crates, notepad in hand and pen scribbling something on it. He noticed Sam almost immediately.

"Hey little guy, you're not supposed to be back-" The man started but couldn't finish as Sam took off on a run, out of the doors and into the parking lot. He had to hide before Dean noticed he was gone. If he made a run for it now, Dean will find him. Heart beating wildly, Sam looked around, finding a family bundling into a car. He could convince them to take him to a bus station or something, but that would take too much time... no, Sam had to find somewhere to hide _now_.

When he saw the huge dumpsters to the side, partially hidden by the building, genius struck. He rushed towards them, thankful for the shoes because he was sure he was about to get very, very messy very quickly. He climbed over some of the discarded boxes to the side to get into the dumpster. The stench was nearly unbearable, and Sam covered his mouth and nose as soon as he was inside. Flies flew up when he disturbed their little feast, but soon enough they were back on the piles and piles of food nearly bursting from black garbage bags. He pressed back against the thick metal wall of the dumpster, hand on his face to reduce the stench, and his eyes burning from the fumes the place was releasing, and he waited for Dean to leave. Eventually, Dean would have to give up and go away, and Sam's clue will be the rumble of the Impala leaving the parking lot.

* * *

Dean paid for the Happy Meal and headed back to their table. Honestly, he didn’t see what the big deal was about the meal. The food didn’t look, or smell, the least bit appetizing, and the plastic toy inside was so cheap it would probably break the second it was dropped. But if it would make the boy happy…

Was Dean really surprised when he finally got back within sight of the table to find it empty? No. Not really. At the same time he was.

One quick sniff was all it took to confirm that Sam was no longer inside the restaurant. Cursing colorfully enough that a nearby grandmother covered her grandchild’s ears with a gasp, Dean shoved the stupid colorful box of food into the nearest trash can. He followed the scent easily through an employee entrance, the man protesting that he shouldn’t be back there was shoved roughly to the ground as Dean ran past him outside.

Once he was outside… that’s where the scent trail ended. Between the smell from the dumpster out in back of the restaurant and the car fumes from the drive through line he couldn’t pick up a trace of the boy. His eyes darted around wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of the child but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Sam!” The vampire called anyway, even though he knew it was stupid and of no use. The boy wasn’t just going to come back to him. This was the second time Sam had run away. The first time Dean had gotten bitten by a wolf for his trouble. He never should have taken the boy in the first place. He’d caused nothing but trouble since the moment he’d laid eyes on the child.

What did he care if Sam had run off?

“Fuck this.” Dean muttered angrily to himself as he started to stalk back to the car. He didn’t care. He was an idiot for ever taking the boy in the first place. He didn’t want or need the responsibility of caring for a child. In a brief moment of guilt for having killed the boy’s father he’d done something stupid that could end up costing him his head down the road.

Well, if a boy told a hunter about him, he’d just have to deal with the consequences. Dean had dealt with his share of hunters and had disappeared many times before he could certainly do it again. If a hunter did catch up to him and killed him? So be it. It was survival of the fittest. Always had been. Always would be.

Dean got in the car, not really caring that he slammed the door harder than he should have, though it caused the glove compartment to fall open again. Dean barely bit back the urge to curse a blue streak. He ignored the mess as he jammed the key into the ignition and started the car. 

* * *

Sam hunkered down, hands over his nose and mouth to keep the smell away, but he was starting to get lightheaded from it. His stomach rolled nauseatingly, making him dry heave, which made him gulp in more air that made him sicker.

He heard the slight commotion outside, the sound of Dean calling for him. For some reason, he felt an instantaneous need to go back, to respond to the call. He dropped his hands from his face and turned around, gripping the foul edge of the dumpster and dragging himself up just enough so that he could peak over it. He could see the Impala. He could see Dean near it, looking angry, but somehow Sam wasn't afraid. For some absolutely no reason, Sam wanted to go back.

Dean had taken care of him, hadn't he? He had fed him, even given him the small amount of affection... he had even let Sam play in the ball pit... and Sam had promised him that he'll behave, and he hadn't.

Sam had been a bad boy.

Eyes casting down, Sam felt guilty for the first time for ditching Dean. Wasn't that the point? For him to get away?

He looked up again when he heard the car door slam. His eyes snapped to the car, seeing Dean in the driver's seat. Dean really was going to leave him here? He wasn't even going to look? Sam's lips pressed together, lower lip quivering. He should be happy that Dean was giving up so easily. What was wrong with him?

When he heard the car start back up, instant panic filled him, but he forced himself to stay down and not rush after Dean the way he wanted to. This is what he wanted. For Dean to leave him. It would be stupid to run after him. Sam didn't move until he heard the car leave, and only then he pulled himself out of the dumpster, unable to bear the smell any longer.

Once he landed on his feet, he looked up and saw the people staring at him, and the guy who was working in the storeroom looking a little worse for wear, but he was staring wide eyed at Sam, and then at the trailing red lights of the Impala before it disappeared around a corner. Aware that Sam smelled more than a little ripe, he made his way to the couple with a bunch of kids, hoping that they'd be more sympathetic than the usual people. Sam perfected his wide watery eyed look, added a lip quiver for some effect, and then proceeded to explain to them that he needed to go to South Dakota.

"Are you... did that man just leave you here?" The 'father' asked Sam who shook his head agitatedly. This isn't what he wanted to talk about.

"I have to get to South Dakota. Can you take me there? Uncle Bobby can pay you!" Sam said, but the 'mother' put her hand on the man's arm and looked down at Sam with pity in her eyes.

"How about we take you to the police station? I'm sure they can find your Dad for you," she said, but the words filled Sam with dread. Police was bad. Police tried to arrest Daddy.

Sam didn't bother answering her, but instead took off running in a random direction, ignoring the couple's calls. Soon enough, he was far away from the McDonald's and he didn't have to worry about getting sent to the police... He didn't need anyone to take him to South Dakota. He can _walk_ there. How far could it be?


	3. Chapter 3

Dean didn't drive for very long, only going a couple miles up the road before he turned into the parking lot of the 'Happy Rest' motel. He was angry and he was tired, days of frustration and lack of sleep would do that, and he simply didn't feel like driving. He just wanted a few good days of rest before he continued on to wherever he decided to settle next. It certainly wasn't because he wanted to stay in the area, close to the McDonalds where he'd lost the boy just in case…  


  
The vampire cut off that thought with a growl as he got out of the car and went into the motel's office to get himself a room.

While the smarter part of his brain was telling him he should keep going, that if Sam told the authorities about him he definitely shouldn't still be in the area, he wasn't listening to it. He hadn't been listening to it for days now, why start?

Getting back in the car Dean made the short drive around to the back of the motel where his room was. Once inside the room he locked and bolted the door, and shut the heavy drapes to block out any remaining light from outside. He wanted it dark. He hadn't been able to sleep in the dark for days. This was usually the time he was just getting up from a good days rest, but ever since he'd been in charge of Sam he'd had to be up during the day longer and longer and it was taking its toll. He was exhausted.

As he dropped down onto the king sized bed and kicked off his boots without bothering to untie them. As he laid back he couldn't deny the restless feeling inside of him even as exhausted as he felt. He knew exactly the reason why he was restless and he didn't like it.

The boy would be fine. He was smart enough to get away from Dean… twice… he was surely smart enough to find someone who'd call the authorities to take care of him. The child was probably already in the custody of the police. What kind of trouble could the child possibly get into? Dean decided not to dwell on the fact that the first time Sam had gotten away from him the boy had managed to find an angry wolf that had tried to eat him.

Dean wondered if the boy would tell the police about him. He had killed the child's father, after all…

It didn't matter, what was done was done.

* * *

Sam walked and walked and walked. Everytime he found someone who wanted to help, they inevitably mentioned taking him to the police. So now Sam didn't try. He held on to his thought of 'how far could it be?' and he kept walking. Sam didn't go very far, but his legs started getting tired. He started needing to pee. He was hungry again. And he was getting cold.

The air had a chill in it now. Not cold enough yet for the winter, but cold if you're wearing just a shirt. Sam reeked from his little dumpster diving episode, and he was getting thirsty fast. For Sam, it felt like he had been walking for days, but he had only been at it for a few hours. But he kept walking.

He got lost for a little while when he tried to get warm in an alleyway, thinking it'll be nicer there where it was blocking all the wind. Instead, he got lost in the mazes of the buildings and small roads and little houses. By the time he finally made it back to the main road, he saw a big clock on a building that had the little arm on the 3 and the big arm between 7 and 8.

Now Sam was absolutely miserable. He was supposed to be in bed right now, warm and cozy with his Dad back from a hunt and fixing him mac n cheese. He shouldn't be here. If Dad knew he was here, he would be _so_ worried. Sam pulled his shoulders up, ignoring the chill in the air as he started walking again, even if every muscle was starting to hurt from tiredness.

He walked and walked and walked... until he felt the first pitter patter of raindrops on his face. Sam scrunched his face against the icy drops, but kept walking. It wasn't so bad yet. He could probably get to South Dakota before it started raining. After all, he had been walking for hours now. South Dakota had to be near now.

So he kept walking. And it started raining. And Sam's slight chill went down to absolutely freezing. Drenched from head to toe, he walked on the sidewalk following the main road. His hair were in his face, he was so cold his teeth were chattering, and his shoes were soaked so everytime he took a step, his feet squelched. Sam was damn near ready to cry.

Then he came across a motel. "Happy Rest". Sam stood there, eyes filling with tears because he wanted rest, and food, and water, and sleep, and everything. He took a deep breath, starting to move on when he saw the black car shining under the neon sign. Without even realizing, Sam's feet took him to the car. One touch to the familiar metallic surface, and Sam's tears were free. Frustration and sadness and tiredness and everything took its toll as he started wailing, loud and miserable, clinging to the sideview mirror of the Impala. It was nearly dawn, and Sam was ready to curl up under the Impala, if necessary, to sleep.

And strangely enough, he wanted Dean. He was even starting to think ridiculous things like 'I won't run away again' if only Dean found him and got him food and sleep and warmth.

* * *

It had taken him an annoyingly long time before sleep had finally taken hold despite how tired Dean had been. Eventually he’d turned on the television just for some distraction from his near constant unwanted thoughts of worrying about what had happened to the boy. Of returning to that damned McDonalds to look for Sam. Or even checking out the local police station just to make sure the child was in custody and being taken care of.

The television was still on, and at first that’s what Dean thought had woken him. He had been sleeping deeper than usual so it took him a little longer than normal to realize that wasn’t the case. It was the sound of someone crying. A child crying. A sound he’d become very familiar with over the last few days.

Dean was up out of the bed like a shot then before he even realized it. He didn’t even bother with his shoes as he went to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open. Wondering if it was just his imagination or if he really had lost his mind completely, his actions over the last few days certainly supported that theory.

Ignoring the rain Dean walked outside. He rounded the car and stopped. His eyes falling on the small figured huddled up beside the car and in spite of what his eyes, ears… and nose… was telling him he couldn’t quite believe it. The child was really here. What was the child doing here?

Dean shook himself out of his dumb stupor. The child was soaked and shivering uncontrollably where he was. Dean had to get him warm and dry before he caught pneumonia or something. Not to mention he should get the boy inside before his crying woke anyone else.

So ignoring all the questions burning inside his brain Dean approached the boy and picked him up without a word. He carried the boy inside, shut and locked the door behind him, and then took the child straight into the bathroom. The smell radiating off the boy answered one of Dean’s questions at least, of how Sam had gotten away from him back at the McDonalds.

He put the child down on the closed toilet seat and turned to the bath. He got the water running and after making sure the temperature was good plugged up the tub before turning back to the boy. The bath would help warm up the boy and get rid of the stench at the same time.

“Let’s get these wet clothes off. Arms up.” Dean said quietly, tugging the soaked t-shirt up over the child’s head. The shoes might be salvageable, but the shirt and jeans were pretty much ruined. Not the Dean really cared about that right now. Right now he was more worried about the chillness of the boy’s skin. That wasn’t good.

“Alright, into the tub. You need to get you warm.”

* * *

Sam cried and cried and cried, eventually curling up against the car, wishing to become as small as possible. He'd be less cold then. But suddenly, he was being picked up into a familiar hold and Sam clung back, tiny hands clutching at Dean's shirt. He buried his head into Dean's neck and tried to soak up as much of Dean's warmth as he could. Quickly, Dean got him inside the motel room, and he didn't even yell at Sam.

Suddenly, Sam was very, very sorry for having run away. If Dean didn't care about him, he wouldn't have picked him up and brought him inside even if he _had_ left him at McDonalds, but that was Sam's fault entirely.

Sam sniffled softly as Dean worked on filling the tub. He was so, so cold, but mostly he was relieved. South Dakota was further away than he thought it was. He obediently lifted his arms when Dean pulled his shirt off, letting him do all the work. Sam was shivering still, but he was more focused on Dean now, like he couldn't believe he had found him again, and that Dean was still taking care of him. When Dean told him to get into the tub, Sam quickly climbed off the toilet seat and then climbed into the warm bath. The hot water quickly warmed his skin and Sam sighed softly, shivering one more time before his body finally, _finally_ relaxed.

He turned to Dean, crossing his arms and resting them on the edge of the tub before resting his chin on them. He looked at how huge Dean was, and how scary he could be, and how mean and how monstrous... but right now Dean just looked like a big nice man to him, someone who was still taking care of him even though Sam had been the baddest boy he could be.

He slid down further under the water until it was barely an inch away from his nose. His eyes were on Dean constantly. He wondered if Dean was mad at him... and he wondered if he should be afraid, but somehow, being afraid came secondary to the relief he was feeling at finally being warm and not having to worry about food and stuff.

Slowly, he moved his eyes away from Dean and towards the bar of soap sitting on the edge of the bathtub. It was a big bar, and Sam's wet fingers slipped on it and the bar went under the water. He reached down, grabbing it again with both hands and pulled it up, twisting it between his fingers to lather it before he let it drop into the water again, not caring where it went. Sam was used to bathing himself. He didn't like taking baths, but Dad had told him that if Sam was clean, monsters will have a harder time sniffing him out. So he got used to doing it himself. He covered his face with the foamy lather that smelled like flowers before dunking his entire head under water to wash it off. He did the same for the shampoo, and then spent the rest of the time playing quietly and lethargically in the water until it started turning tepid before dragging himself out of the bath.

* * *

Dean knew he should probably be angry, furious even, at the boy for running away from him earlier. A part of him was, but strangely enough he was not angry at Sam. Dean was only angry at himself.

It was Dean’s own stupid fault after all for behaving like a simple minded fool, trusting the word of a small child he’d kidnapped and who’s father he’d murdered. Sam had behaved as any intelligent being would, he’d taken advantage of Dean’s stupidity and he’d run when he’d had the chance. So he couldn’t really blame the boy for trying, and succeeding.

Dean couldn’t help but wonder if he’d… done it on purpose. If somewhere inside him he’d hoped that Sam would run. What if Dean had given him the opportunity without consciously realizing it? Over and over he’d been telling himself how foolish he was for taking the boy in the first place. Over and over he’d admitted he did not want or need this burden. He’d been conflicted over what to do with the child since he’d first taken him, and the more he thought about it the more he had seen that killing the boy was his only ‘smart’ option.

What if he’d given the boy the chance to run so he wouldn’t have to make that choice?

Now the child was back. How had the boy even found him? Had Sam searched him out or had the child simply stumbled on his location? Why hadn’t the boy simply gone to the police? Had the child been wandering around outside the entire time Dean had left him at that McDonalds? Dean’s gut tightened just at the thought. Dean might be a monster that drank the blood of humans to live but there were some things even _he_ wouldn’t do. If he had decided to kill the child at least he would have done it quick and painlessly. But there were predators out there, so called humans, who would have done so much worse…

When the boy climbed into the tub like he asked, Dean took up his previous residence sitting on the toilet seat. His eyes focused on the far wall of the bathroom rather than watching the boy while he bathed but he still listened to the sounds of the water splashing in the tub. Only when he heard the boy start to climb out of the tub he moved again, getting up, grabbing a large towel, and wrapping it around the child. He helped Sam dry off quickly and efficiently, before he picked the boy up again and carried him out to the bedroom and deposited him on the bed.

Still somewhat lost in thought he went over to the bag of clothes he’d brought with him from his safe house and dug out one of his t-shirts. He’d have to get the boy some new clothes again. Sighing to himself Dean returned to the boy’s side and dropped the shirt in his lap.

Crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for Sam to get dressed Dean thought for a long time what to say, but when he finally spoke he was a bit surprised by the words that came out.

“Are you hungry?”

* * *

The large towel Dean dried him off with was fluffy and warm, and Sam let Dean do as he wanted. When Dean started picking him up after, Sam curled up against Dean, tiredness making him docile. He pretty much deflated in Dean's arms, hanging limply and bonelessly until Dean was putting him on the soft, soft bed that was rumpled and messy. Sam snuggled into the towel still around him, fighting off the chill he could still feel inside him, gnawing at his bones. He was almost surprised when Dean gave him another one of his t-shirts and Sam quickly stood up on the bed, pulling the large cotton shirt over his head, letting it hang to his knees before he was crawling under the blankets, wrapping them around himself like a cocoon.

He was waiting for Dean to yell at him with baited breath. Sam deserved Dean yelling at him. Sam had been a bad boy, and hidden in a dumpster to get away from Dean, but that plan had failed horribly, and today was too cold to run away anyway. Dean had all the reason in the world to be mad at him... he just hoped that Dean wouldn't hit him again. That had hurt a lot. Even more than that, Sam really, really hoped Dean wouldn't bite him again, because that had hurt worse than the time Sam had fallen off a tree and twisted his ankle.

Instead of yelling at him, Dean asked him if he was hungry... and Sam was surprised into inaction for exactly two seconds before he was nodding slowly, still looking confused.

"You're not mad?" Sam asked so softly it was merely a whisper, worried that Dean _was_ mad but he was just waiting for the right time to rip Sam a new one. He looked up at Dean, only his eyes peeking out of the blankets he had wrapped around himself.

* * *

Dean looked away as the child got dressed again but when the vampire heard the bed springs creak he looked back to see the boy snuggling up in the bed. His bed. As he looked at the boy, now wrapped up so tightly in the covers all he could really see was his eyes and the top of his still damp hair, Dean wasn’t sure what he was feeling but that restlessness that had been nagging at him all night since Sam had run away from him was gone now.

When the boy confirmed he was hungry, not that Dean was all that surprised he was, Dean started to turn towards the door. It was past four o’clock in the morning, nearly five, so the diner attached to the motel was probably open by now and serving breakfast for travelers making an early start. Sam’s soft question however made him stop and turn back to the boy.

How to answer? Was he mad? Yes. He was furious. At least, he knew he was somewhere inside him. Right now though his anger was overshadowed by too much… relief? Dean could only assume that’s what the feeling was, and he really wanted to kick himself for it. The last thing he should be was relieved he was once more responsible for taking care of this little monster that had made Dean’s life so damned difficult over the last several days. But as much as he wanted to deny it… he couldn’t.

Slowly Dean knelt down on the floor beside the bed, and he didn’t speak until he and Sam were on eye level.

“Yes, I’m mad. You promised to behave yourself and you didn’t. You ran away. You could have been hurt, or killed, or worse. There are worse monsters out there than me, Sam, human monsters that would do horrible things to a boy wandering alone.” Dean said plainly. He didn’t believe in sugar coating the truth.

* * *

When Sam asked if Dean was mad, he had expected him to yell. Sam had even braced himself for it... but instead, Dean's voice was soft, and he was kneeling next to Sam so that he was the same height as him and... Sam wasn't scared of him right now. That was very strange.

Dean's words were even more confusing, because once when Sam had run away from home when he was five, Dad had said the same thing to him. Dad's words echoed in Sam's head like it had happened just yesterday.

_Don't you dare do that again, Sam! I was so worried! You're all I have and there are monsters everywhere, Sammy, what if you would have been hurt or killed? What would I do then?_

Dean said that he was mad, but he didn't look mad. He looked like he had been worried... and that made something in Sam relax.

Sam unwrapped himself from his blanket, the chill in the room immediately seeping into his body but he ignored it for the moment. He reached out, little hands resting on Dean's cheeks before he pushed his hands towards the center of Deans' face, making his cheeks puff up and his eyes narrow and lips puff out. Like this, Dean wasn't scary at all. Sam smiled a little at the image Dean made, then he was grinning, and then he started laughing softly. "Like this, you're not scary at all!" Sam exclaimed before leaning forward and bumping noses with Dean. This was something Dad used to do to him to make him feel better when he was upset. It was always a little difficult to remain upset or angry or cranky when Dad was bumping his nose with his own and pinching his cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was a bad boy," Sam said softly, little hands letting go of Dean's cheeks to just randomly move all over his face. "I promise not to run away again," Sam said as he put one hand over Dean's eye, feeling the long eyelashes tickle his palm before it was in Dean's hair that were softer than they looked. He really didn't intend on running away again. He was starting to think that Dean really didn't want to eat him. If he did, it would have been easier just to kidnap a fat boy and eat him. As he thought this, his stomach growled long and angry, moving so that Sam's belly trembled a little. Sam let go of Dean's face to wrap his hands around his belly, giving Dean an absolutely miserable look.

* * *

They were both quiet for a long time, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder what was going through the boy’s head. Did he even understand? His father was a hunter, so the boy certainly knew about monsters. But he was still too young to understand there were other monsters to watch out for that were far more dangerous than the boogie man under the bed. Dean hoped the boy wouldn’t ask for the gory details, because as much as he wanted Sam to understand he didn’t want him to understand _that_ well. It would probably only give the boy nightmares. But Dean _did_ need the boy to understand that running away from him was far more dangerous than staying with him. Especially since the boy wasn’t even smart enough to go to the authorities for help.

Dean opened his mouth, about to ask Sam if he understood and demand a promise that the boy not run away from him again no matter what. But before he could Sam uncurled from his nest of blankets and shocked Dean by placing his hands on his face. Then the child shocked him even more when he squeezed his face, Dean’s eyebrows arching in surprise probably only adding to his comical appearance.

What the hell?

Then the boy was smiling and laughing and Dean was too damned confused to do anything. At least until Sam declared suddenly that he wasn’t scary like ‘this’ and Dean snorted in amusement in spite of himself. His amusement unfortunately died away rather quickly when Sam leaned in close to him and bumped their noses together like Eskimos. They must look utterly ridiculous, Dean more so since Sam was still holding his face in that idiotic expression, but for some reason he didn’t feel as stupid as he knew he must look. Instead he felt a strange sense of… fondness… wash over him. He hadn’t felt it in so long it took him a moment to recognize the feeling.

Finally Sam apologized, and let go of his face which Dean was grateful for if only so he no longer looked like a complete dork. When the boy promised he wouldn’t run away again… well, time would tell… but for now Dean believed him, and gave a small nod in answer.

The boy’s rumbling stomach broke the moment and the absolutely pitiful look Sam gave him almost made him laugh. Instead he simply nodded and rose, ruffling the boy’s damp hair a little as he did.

“Alright, I’ll get you some food. Bundle up, I can see you’re still cold. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Dean said, grabbing his wallet and turning the heat on the thermostat up on the way out.

As he’d hoped the diner was open and not knowing what the boy would like but knowing he must be starving by now, Dean ordered a little bit of everything. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, oatmeal with brown sugar, and orange juice. As he carried the Styrofoam packages back to his room he couldn’t help but wonder for the millionth time how he’d allowed himself to get into this mess, but he supposed it was a moot point now. For better or worse, he and Sam were now stuck with each other. 

* * *

It took Sam less than ten seconds after the door clicked shut to fall asleep, exactly in the position he was. He didn't even get as far as to bundle himself up before he was off to lala-land. He didn't dream, not with how exhausted he was. His limbs ached from walking all night and the chill from the rain had seeped into his bones making his body ache from the inside out while his stomach was letting him know very angrily that it was empty.

Years of Dad telling him to be vigilant was the only reason he woke up again when he heard the door opening. He sat up, woozy with sleep as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He had slept barely ten minutes, but it felt like he was drugged. He smiled sleepily at Dean before crawling across the bed towards the smell of food.

Sam's eyes widened when he saw all the food, and his stomach growled again, louder than before. He grabbed the boxes quickly, taking them to the table before climbing on a chair so that he could dig into it. He got to the eggs and toast first before finishing off the orange juice. "This is..." Sam stuck a sausage into his mouth, "this is sooooo good," he said with food pretty much spraying out of his mouth.

It was after he was done stuffing himself like a Thanksgiving turkey that he dragged himself to bed and promptly passed out again. For the next several hours, Sam didn't even twitch from his spot. The toasty room meant that Sam wasn't too preoccupied by wrapping himself in blankets, and so his only concern was to sleep as deeply as he could. A lot had happened in the past twenty four hours, and he still had to recover from when Dean had hit him, and then the crying fit that followed, the escape attempt and then the hours and hours of walking he had done. Sam slept like the dead, and nothing short of the apocalypse would have woken him up.

* * *

When Dean returned to the room he was a little surprised that the boy was asleep. Given how much Sam’s stomach had been growling when he’d left he figured the boy would be too hungry to sleep, but then again the child must be exhausted. Sam started to rouse soon after he closed the door however and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if it was the sound of the door or the smell of the food that had woke him up.

Dean handed over the boxes full of food, for a moment wondering if the boy would even be able to carry them without spilling them since they were a little heavy. But the child managed just fine and Dean couldn’t help but grin as Sam dug enthusiastically into the food.

The vampire busied himself with cleaning up the room a little while the child ate. The first thing he did was throw away the boy’s dirty clothing and tied up the back since the garments were rather rank to his sensitive nose. By the time he was done cleaning up the bathroom Sam had inhaled almost half the food he’d bought and while he knew the child would be hungry Dean was still a little surprised how much he’d managed to pack away. How could a body so small hold down so much food without exploding?

Dean also made a mental note to talk to the boy about chewing with his mouth closed. While he was glad the Sam liked the food, it was no longer appetizing to the vampire in any way, so seeing it all mashed up and spraying everywhere when the boy talked was even less so.

By the time Sam was done, Dean was definitely impressed by how much he’d managed to eat and hoped it wouldn’t make the child sick later on. He watched Sam crawl back into the bed while he packed up the left over food and stuck it into the small fridge. Within seconds the boy was passed out sprawled on top of the covers and Dean shook his head.

Leftovers stowed away in case Sam got hungry again later, Dean went over to the bed and carefully rearranged the boy in a more comfortable position. He probably shouldn’t have bothered being so careful, Sam didn’t even twitch when he pulled the covers out from under him and laid them over Sam instead. Yawning Dean went to the other side of the bed, deciding he would try to get some more rest himself while he could while Sam was passed out. Sleep came to him much easier this time. 

* * *

When Sam woke up again, he was twisted into a pretzel. He was lying on his stomach with his head on Dean's belly, his arm curled under him between the bed and his body, and his other arm was wrapped around his leg, which was pulled up. His other leg, thankfully, was straight.

Groggy, Sam untangled himself and sat up slowly, looking at Dean with a small amount of confusion as to where he was and what he was doing and what was going on. It was dark in the room, and Sam looked up at the clock to notice that the small hand was on seven and the big hand was on five. Crawling off the bed, Sam went to a nearby window and peeked through the closed curtains. Outside, the sky was a violet color and deep blue was seeping in around the edges.

Sam was still staring at the sky when he felt the small crawling sensation in his throat. He coughed softly, dropping the curtain back to its original place and heading to the bathroom to relieve himself. He closed the door firmly behind him, locking it. Five minutes later, as he was washing his hands, he felt the same crawling sensation again. So he coughed again, and he had to cough longer and harder to get rid of the sensation.

He headed back to the room, spying the TV remote on the dresser, and he managed to get it by climbing on one of the drawers. He crawled back to bed, sitting close to Dean because Dean was warm and soft and comfy. He switched the TV on and put the volume on low, flipping through the channels before he found some cartoons about a cat chasing a mouse. These were his favorite ones. He liked the cat more than the mouse though. The mouse was a bully.

As he watched, he felt something wet slide out of his nose. Without thinking, he stuck his finger in his nose and pulled it out, noting that it was wet. He made a face and wiped his finger on the covers near him, and continued to watch the cartoons. A few minutes later, more wetness ran out of his nose and Sam did the same again. Until he sneezed loudly and felt his head swim.

"Uhhh," Sam groaned, finding the box of tissues on the bedside stand and grabbing a couple. He knew he was probably disturbing Dean by now, but he couldn't help it as he blew into the tissue loudly. Feeling slightly better, he balled up the tissue and threw it in a random direction. As soon as he had gotten settled again, he sneezed again, and then again, and then again.

"Oh phooey," Sam muttered as he grabbed more tissues. On the screen, Tom the cat lay in his cat bed with a thermometer sticking out of his mouth while Jerry got a lit candle, ready to heat the thermometer without Tom knowing.

* * *

Being a vampire it was pretty damned important to his survival to be able to wake and be alert in less than a second at even the softest noises. In the early years after his turning he’d been afraid to sleep and barely did it at all. When he did it was more like a light meditative trance and while it had been somewhat restful was never true sleep. He had been a very cranky vampire in his early years. Then again, back then human hunters had been the least of his worries.

As time went on he learned to control his sleep better. While he never slept as deeply as he remembered from when he was human, he had learned how to put himself more deeply under but still leave part of his mind awake and alert. It was a skill that had saved his neck on more than one occasion.

By now however Dean was used enough to the boy’s presence that the vampire didn’t immediately wake up to every little movement or sound that Sam made. If he did he never would have gotten any sleep the last few days he’d been taking care of Sam. Instead he tried to keep his ears open for any sounds of mischief the child might be getting into while ignoring other sounds Sam made. He’d learned to tell the difference pretty damned quickly.

So he knew that the movements in the bed beside him as the boy shifted in his sleep were nothing to worry about. Even while he was aware on some level when the boy woke up and he heard the child moving around the room he didn’t bother to rouse himself. Though the awake part of his mind did take note of the TV when it was turned on he tuned it out a second later. As long as the boy wasn’t getting into trouble or bothering him he didn’t care if he watched TV.

Just because it was technically evening and usually the time he was waking up, he was still tired and didn’t want to. Hell, even vampires could ‘sleep in’ on occasion. After the last few day’s he’d had he felt like he deserved it.

The universe seemed to have other plans.

While Dean might have been able to ignore the sneezing, he couldn’t really ignore the sound of Sam blowing his nose like a fog horn. With a string of mental curses that were definitely not suitable for a child’s ears, Dean resigned himself to getting up whether he wanted to or not and opened his eyes. Just in time to watch with distaste as the boy threw a used tissue on the floor.

“There is a trash can.” Dean muttered as he pushed himself up, looking at the boy. Flushed cheeks, runny nose, he could even hear the slight change in his breathing. Damn it. The child probably had a cold, no surprise after being out in the rain all last night, but certainly not something he wanted to deal with right now. Not that he had much of a choice. Damn it. 

* * *

Sam sniffled as Dean woke up, looking a bit drowsy. Sam grinned at Dean looking so tired before his grin was interrupted by a bout of sneezes and then coughing to boot. Sam was starting to get pretty sick pretty quickly, but right now he was preoccupied with Dean since he was finally awake. Dean pointing out that there was a trash can only made Sam grin again.

"I know," he said cheekily, squirming happily on the bed now that he had Dean's attention. Dad had always told Sam that he was like a puppy with the amount of affection and attention he needed on a daily basis, and now that Sam was starting to get more familiar with Dean and saw Dean as less and less of a monster everyday, he was starting to look for attention from him. Sam sniffed loudly, trying to suck in the wetness running from his nose. Dad hated it when he did that, and had told him once that Sam shouldn't keep in what was trying to get out.

Even after claiming that he knew there was a trashcan, Sam made no move to move. He sat there, looking up at Dean and sniffling loudly again as more clear liquid ran out of his nose.

* * *

Sam was practically bouncing on the bed looking almost… happy… to see him. If it wasn’t for the snot running out of his nose it might have been cute. When the boy proceeded to inhale the flowing mucus back up into his nose with a disgusting gurgling sound Dean made a face. Sam also didn’t move to pick up his used snot tissue off the floor either. Dean wondered if all children were this disgusting or if he was just ‘lucky’.

“Use the Kleenex, that’s what they’re for.” Dean ordered after another gurgling inhale from the child almost made the vampire gag. “And throw them in the trash when you’re done.” He added with a mild glare to make sure the boy knew he was serious. _He_ wasn’t going to be picking the damned disgusting things up off the floor and he wasn’t going to stand walking on them either.

The universe was playing some kind of sick cosmic joke on him, Dean was certain of it now. Bad enough he knew nothing about taking care of a child, now he had to take care of a sick child? What the hell did he know about dealing with a cold? Vampires didn’t get colds. They didn’t get sick at all. Sure, Dean had seen plenty of sick humans through the years but he didn’t socialize with them, in fact he tried to avoid them because it was disgusting.

Back when Dean himself had been human being ill was a lot different. They didn’t have all the kinds of medicines that existed today. They didn’t have thermometers or cough drops or even disposable Kleenex tissues. Most of the time they just let illnesses run their courses, but back then people used to die from the flu too.

Maybe Sam only had a cold, maybe he would get better if Dean did nothing, but what if he got worse? Already the boy was sniffling and coughing and he hadn’t been last night, so what if it was serious?

Dean scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed heavily. Well, he needed to get Sam some new clothes anyway. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Fully awake now he took a moment to stretch before he headed over to his bag of clothes. Of course he didn’t have anything that would fit the boy but something was better than nothing. Dean found a pair of boxer shorts grabbed his boots.

“Put those on, we’re going out.” He told Sam as he sat down on the edge of the bed, handing the boy the boxers, then started taking the shoe laces out of his boots. When the boy had the boxers on Dean had him stand up and he used the shoe laces to tie a makeshift belt around the boy’s waist just to make sure they stayed on long enough. It was ridiculous but Sam wouldn’t have to wear it for long.

“Ok, put your shoes on.” Dean said and he put on his own boots, sans laces. It would probably be easier if he just left the boy here and went out to get whatever he needed but having the boy run from him yesterday was a wakeup call. He wasn’t letting Sam out of his sight unless absolutely necessary. Besides… maybe Sam could tell him some of the things he needed for a cold.

* * *

Sam let Dean do whatever he wanted because he was concentrating more on the shenanigans of the cat and mouse on TV. When Dean told him to put on a pair of boxers, Sam did, even though the elastic was too loose on him and Sam had to hold them up with one hand twisted in it. On screen, Tom smacked Jerry with a giant anvil and then little yellow birds started circling Jerry's head.

Sam squealed out a laugh before it turned into a wet, rattling cough. While Dean tied shoelaces around his waist to keep the boxers up, Sam grabbed a Kleenex and blew his nose into it, sighing in relief as his sinuses were cleared momentarily. He threw it in the general direction of the trashcan, clapping when it went in purely by accident. When Dean told him to put on his shoes, he did it without question, still focusing more on the TV than what was going on around him.

Hopping down from the bed, Sam waddled over to Dean, trying to keep the boxers from falling because of the movement of his legs. He wrapped his fingers around Dean's thumb and held on, letting Dean lead him wherever. As he stepped over the threshold to the room, he noticed that there was no salt. Dean wasn't so careful about protecting himself, Sam had noticed... what if he didn't know about salt?

"We should get salt," Sam said as he waddled beside Dean. "You should put salt on doorsteps. Bad things can come inside otherwise," Sam said, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose to get rid of the wetness there. "Daddy told me."

* * *

Dean glanced over at the television, wondering what all the fuss was about, and shook his head a little in disbelief. Really, what was the appeal? But it seemed to keep Sam entertained and the boy was being very cooperative while he was distracted, so maybe Dean would have to remember this little trick in the future.

He grabbed his coat and the keys and didn’t even need to beckon the boy before Sam’s hand was in his own. As Dean watched Sam wipe his runny nose with his other hand the vampire made a mental note not to let the boy hold his hand with that one.

“Salt?” Dean raised an eyebrow at the boy’s statement as he bundled him into the car and finally understood when Sam mentioned it keeping out ‘bad things’. Of course the boy would be too young to understand that while salt was a good protection against some things it didn’t keep out everything supernatural. After all, it hadn’t kept out him.

“Don’t worry, nothing bad is going to come in while I’m there.” The vampire reassured as he got in behind the steering wheel. It was true enough. Surprisingly it seemed a lot of supernatural creatures steered clear of others that weren’t their own kind. Hell, a lot of them steered clear of their own kind as well. Like it was an unspoken common courtesy or something, but more likely other creatures knew better than to mess with the likes of him.

Other vampires usually didn’t come into his feeding grounds either. Sure, vampire nests often hunted together, but he’d never been a part of a nest. He’d always been a rogue, a loner, it was safer that way. Less feeding going on in one place meant less chance a Hunter would notice. Besides, Dean didn’t particularly like other vampires. He would probably kill any fledglings that wandered into his hunting grounds and elder vampires knew better.

Glancing over at the boy sitting in the car next to him he wondered if it would be better to get Sam some proper clothes first or head to the drug store for some medicine. Dean didn’t want the boy to get snot all over the clothes he tried on in a store, but he didn’t know how long the drug store trip would take. It was going to look bad either way going into a store with Sam dressed the way he was.

Deciding clothes should probably come first, they’d just need an ample supply of napkins for Sam’s running faucet of snot, Dean pulled the impala into the parking lot of a small shopping plaza. There had to be some store that sold children’s clothes. Before getting out of the car Dean grabbed a handful of napkins from the glove compartment and handed them to Sam.

“Alright, let’s get you something to wear, and try not to get snot everywhere.” Dean ordered, taking Sam’s hand once more after they got out of the car. 

* * *

Sam listened to Dean's answer about the salt with more than a healthy dose of skepticism. Sure, Dean was big and strong and scary when he got all monstrous-y, but what if a werewolf came in? Or a shtriga? Those were scary. Sam came really close to one once, and Dad had gotten there just in time to shoot the thing. It had a wrinkly face and a large gaping mouth and it tried to eat Sam!

Sam didn't argue though, not because he didn't want to, but because he got distracted once he got into the car. Sam rattled out a cough before he started playing with the edges of his shirt, trying not to 'get snot everywhere', as Dean had put it. It was hard though, and sometimes when he wasn't thinking, he would start picking his nose which was grosser than usual because everything was so wet inside.

Luckily, Dean gave him napkins before they left the car so Sam was able to clean his nose as best as he could before Dean came around to lead him to the store. It was a clothing store, and Sam was immediately enamored by all the clothes hanging everywhere. As they went towards the kids section, he also found a bunch of teddy bears lining the wall. Sam didn't touch them though. He'd get them dirty. And new toys are always so expensive.

So he focused on the clothes, and the clothes were so nice! There were these pajamas that he immediately fell in love with. They were light blue and thick and soft and warm and they had little bears on them. And there was this shirt that was green and had cartoons drawn on the front. Sam stuck close to Dean though, but his eyes kept wandering to the soft pajamas and the pretty shirt and the cute teddy bear with a patch over one eye. It was a pirate bear. Pirates were so cool. He wouldn't ask for them, even though Sam knew somehow that Dean would get them for him if he asked.

"Dean..." Sam called softly after a little while. He wasn't feeling so good, and his head was all spinny. "Up?" He asked as he held his arms up, because he was getting too tired to stay standing. He gave Dean his most pleading, most miserable look, hoping that Dean would pick him up because this whole staying balanced thing was getting to be a little too difficult.

* * *

Finding a clothing store in the shopping plaza was easy enough and thankfully it had a big enough children’s section that Dean hoped this would be a one stop shopping trip for everything Sam would need. Dean had learned his lesson and planned on buying Sam several articles of clothing in case he ruined one set. Though he also hoped that Sam had learned his lesson and wouldn’t do any more dumpster diving any time soon, Dean wasn’t going to take anything for granted.

They were also in luck that it was early enough that the store was practically empty and no one was paying them much attention. Dean hoped that continued to be the case as he headed over to a rack of jeans and started looking through the different sizes offered. He remembered the size he’d gotten Sam before and they’d seemed to fit well enough, so might as well get the same size again. Though maybe he should pick out a size bigger and smaller and have Sam try them on first just to make sure? He had just found the right size and was picking out a few different pairs, wondering if he should have picked up a basket on the way inside, when he heard Sam’s soft request.

Dean looked down at the boy and could tell immediately that Sam wasn’t doing very well. His cheeks were flushed, worse than before, but the rest of his skin was rather pale. His eyes were tired, a little glassy, and he could tell the miserable look in them wasn’t all for show. The fact that Sam was actually asking to be picked up was also pretty damned telling.

The vampire didn’t hesitate reaching down to lift Sam up and he could immediately feel how warm Sam was pressed against his side. Damn it. Maybe they should have gone to the drug store first after all.

Looking around Dean quickly spotted an empty shopping cart sitting in the next isle over and went to grab it, not really caring if it might belong to another shopper. He brought it back over to the clothes section and started throwing a few different items into the basket. Trying them on to see if they fit would have to wait till later.

“Did you see anything you liked?” Dean asked softly as he dumped several packages of socks and underwear into the cart. 

* * *

Dean picked Sam up without hesitation, and Sam was quick to throw his arms around Dean's neck and hold on tight, his head resting on Dean's shoulder while Dean shopped. Sam sniffled and tried to not feel too miserable and down, but it was proving difficult. Much too fast, Sam could feel himself getting colder and colder, and he pressed even closer to Dean to soak up his warmth.

Then Dean asked if Sam liked anything and it brought a small smile to Sam's flushed face. "The pajamas?" Sam said quietly, pretty much mumbling it out. He pointed at the stack of pajamas to the side, the blue ones on the very top looking so comfy and soft and warm. As Dean made his way there, it put Sam close to the wall of teddy bears and Sam just couldn't control himself. He reached out, fingers sinking into the soft fur of the pirate bear and then it pulled it off the shelf, bringing it close to himself and hugging it tightly while looking at Dean with glassy, watery eyes.

_"Put it down, Sam."  
"We don't have that kind of money."  
"I'll get you one from Goodwill."  
"Put it down, Sam."  
"Sam? Put it down."  
"Sam? Sam! SAM!"_

He asked wordlessly to keep it, lip wobbling a little as he felt a lump form in his throat. He was feeling grumpy and cranky and sick and he wanted this teddy bear so, so, _so_ badly. He was sure that if Dean asked him to put it back, he was going to cry. He didn't want to be a crybaby, but right now he didn't think he could help it.

* * *

Dean felt Sam’s arms wrap around his neck and the boy practically… snuggled… against his neck. This would have been fine except for the fact that boy’s nose that was still running like a really gross faucet. He really hoped Sam didn’t sneeze and get snot all over him because Dean would not be happy then. Even if it wasn’t really Sam’s fault, even though it kind of was for the boy running away from him in the first place and being stuck outside all night in the rain, it was still disgusting.

Pajamas, right, those were fairly necessary so Dean didn’t mind picking up a pair that looked like they would fit Sam and threw them into the basket along with the other clothes. Alright, so they now had several pairs of jeans and shirts, some packages of socks and underwear, pajamas, Sam already had shoes… Dean didn’t think there was anything else the boy would need, at least clothes wise, so he started pushing the cart one handed, the other holding on to Sam, towards the registers to pay.

The boy certainly wasn’t very subtle when he made a grab for one of the stuffed bears while Dean was ‘distracted’. The way the boy hugged the bear so tightly made Dean think he’d have to use a crowbar to pry it free from his grip if he tried. Sam looked at him as though he fully expected Dean to take it away too.

Maybe he should? Dean had heard it was bad to spoil children. He’d certainly seen, and heard, many tantrums being thrown by children in the past. Dean certainly didn’t want to deal with one of those right now, but that wasn’t why the vampire said nothing. He merely gave the boy a raised eyebrow before he continued to push the cart down the aisles towards the register. Sam looked miserable enough and if it would make the boy happy to have the bear… besides it wasn’t as though Dean couldn’t afford it.

On the way towards the checkout they passed a table stacked with soft fluffy looking blankets and without a word Dean grabbed one of those too. He did his best to rush the lady at the checkout counter even though she seemed like she’d much rather coo over the ‘cute little boy’ perched on Dean’s hip. Packages in one hand and still holding Sam Dean made his way quickly back to the impala and put Sam in the front seat and threw the shopping bags in the back seat. Only taking the time to retrieve the blanket and wrap it around Sam before he got back in the car and sped quickly to the nearest drug store.

“I’ll be right back, stay here, and keep the doors locked.” Dean ordered, deciding not to bring Sam into the store this time given how sick and tired the boy looked. He didn’t really want to leave the boy out in the car alone but he figured he could be in and out quicker without Sam. 

* * *

She had been watching them for a while. But her orders to grab the kid had only come today. It would have been easier yesterday. The boy had been wandering alone. It was perfect. She sighed before returning her attention to the boy and the man. The boy looked sick and tired, and the young man taking care of him seemed capable, but a little clueless. It was all very interesting. Specially since the boy seemed to not be scared of the man anymore. She could also see the beginnings of affection in the man's eyes for the young child, and that would cause problems later, specially considering how strong of a vampire the man was.

Boss wouldn't like this.

It was easy to tail them from the clothing store. The man was more concerned with the sick boy, and she could just smell the child getting sicker by the second. It was nothing bad, just a simple flu that needed a bit of children's Tylenol and some mucolytic... She smiled. The two were cute, but the boss wanted the kid. He was important to his plans.

She watched them get into the car, the man bundling up the boy before driving off. Smiling a little, she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she was in front of a drug store and the young man was rushing past her into the store. Sam was still in the car.

Oh, how perfect.

She walked up to the car, her heels clacking lightly on the asphalt and her pale dress fluttering slightly. She had chosen this body for a reason, knowing that this body looked remarkably like Sam's dead mother, and if there was one thing children were blind to, it was their mothers.

Sam was dozing in the passenger seat, a blanket tucked tight around him and the head of a teddy bear poking out from inside the blanket as well. She started getting ready to open the door and get the boy when something stopped her. Sigils glowed on the metal of the door and roof. Wards. She couldn't get to the boy while he was inside the car.

So she knocked on the window. She saw the way Sam's eyes fluttered open, looking glassy and tired. "Hey, little guy," She said softly. "Open the door for me, will you?"

Sam sat up straighter, looking like he's going to open the door, but all he did was check the door lock. She smiled, surprised. "You look a little sick. I have medicine."

Sam opened the window a little, just enough to hear her better. "Dean's getting me some," Sam said before coughing hard.

"Oh, poor baby," She cooed, holding out her arms. "How about just a hug then? I promise it'll make you feel better."

"Daddy said not to talk to strangers," Sam muttered, squirming a little on the seat.

"And Daddy said the right thing. But Dean killed Daddy, right? And he'll kill you too," She said and Sam's eyes widened, fear returning to his fever bright eyes. "Come with me. I'll take you to Uncle Bobby."

"Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked, getting on his knees on the seat and curling his fingers over the window glass through the small open gap. She was quick to reach out and touch his fingers gently, trying to get him to come out of the car. "Are you a monster?" Sam asked.

"Everyone's a monster, sweetie," She explained. She looked towards the store and saw that Dean was ready to come out now. She needed to finish this quickly. "Come on, honey, let's go."

"But... Dean..." Sam asked, and her patience was running out.

"Just come out of the car. I'll take care of the rest."

Sam's lip quivered, and he retreated from her. "I don't want to. Not right now."

"Get out of the car."

"No!"

She was losing her patience, any second now, Dean was going to notice her. "Come on, Sam, don't be such a pigheaded little baby. You're always so stubborn and you never listen! This is why Dad left you! This is why Dean's going to leave you too! But Uncle Bobby wouldn't ever leave you, and so you have to get out of the car before Dean gets here!"

"Dean got me a teddy bear," Sam said, showing her the bear with the eye patch and she lost her temper. With a scream, her eyes turned pitch black and she punched the door as hard as he she could, the sigil glowing for a moment before she disappeared into thin air. Sam, terrified now on top of being sick, started to wail.

* * *

Dean didn’t waste any time wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles of the drug store looking for the right kind of medicine for Sam. He went right up to the man at the register, not really caring when he stepped in front of the line of people already there.

“I need medicine for a sick boy.” Dean said, ignoring the irritated stares he was getting from the people in line.

“Oh, well sir, if you could just give me a minute to take care of…” The man started but Dean cut him off.

“Show me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said; show me where the medicine is. Now.” The vampire knew he probably looked and sounded a little scary right now but he didn’t really care.

“Sir, you can find the cold medicines down aisle five if…” The man’s nervous stuttering of which aisle he could find the cold medicine down did nothing to improve Dean’s patience. Like he knew which kind of medicine to get for Sam? Which kind was the best? What if he got the wrong one?

He was half a second away from dragging the man over the counter when a woman in line offered to help him find what he needed. Deciding that was a better option than the man at the register calling the cops on him, Dean went with the woman, describing on the way Sam’s symptoms.

He got one medicine that was supposed to take care of Sam’s running nose and cough, another that would help bring down the boy’s fever. He also got an electric thermometer so he could check Sam’s fever just to make sure it wasn’t dangerously high. More Kleenex would definitely be needed, the soft kind with lotion in it. Finally a heating pad in case Sam got the chills.

Dean thanked the woman and brought his purchases quickly back up to the counter. The other people in line had already cleared out and the man at the register looked nervous to see him again but said nothing as he rang everything out swiftly.

When he heard the familiar crying he grabbed his packages and threw down some money on the counter, not even waiting for his change before he ran out the door to the car wondering what the hell had happened. When the vampire saw the dent in the passenger side door, his eyes widened. What the fuck? It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed the smell, much too faint for a mortal’s senses but he recognized it immediately. Sulfur… a demon… _what the fuck?!_

Dean quickly fished the car keys out of his pocket, unlocked and yanked the door open.

“Sam? Are you hurt? What happened?” 

* * *

Sam kept crying until he saw Dean, and that point his crying turned into screaming, louder now that Dean was here. He clung tight to the bear, tears streaming down his cheeks and terrified that the scary lady will be back... but Dean had said that while he was around, nothing bad would come for him and Dean was here now.

Dean opened the car door and Sam scooted closer to the edge of the seat, looking up at the vampire. "She said you'll kill me!" Sam cried, hiccuping now from the force of his sobs. "And then you'll leave me, like you did Daddy."

Sam hiccuped a couple of more times, breathing becoming difficult as his headache got worse. He felt hot all over, and there was snot flowing from his nose in ample amounts. He hugged his bear tighter to himself, making it look like a lump of fur and stuffing in his arms with the way he had it twisted up.

Sam pushed his face into the bear, still scared but a bit better now that Dean was here. "She was scary..." He mumbled. With scary black eyes, and she got so angry! And she punched the door. And Sam was scared that she'll come back. Why did she want him to leave with her? What if _she_ was the one who wanted to eat him? Sam knew now that she was a monster too.

* * *

Dean’s eyes widened when Sam’s wails took on a distinct ear piercing tone. The vampire quickly looked around, a growl in his throat, ready to attack whatever was now threatening the boy, but he saw nothing. His gaze snapped back to Sam, his eyes widening, when the boy accused him of wanting to kill him. That ‘she’ had said so. Like he had killed Sam’s father…

What could he say? It was true. He had killed Sam’s father. What did it matter that Sam’s father had tried to kill him first? Dean was the monster. Sam’s father was the hero, and it was a hero’s job to kill monsters. The only thing ‘wrong’ with that picture was the monster had won.

Dean knelt down beside the open door, looking at Sam, but he did not try to touch the boy. He knew they shouldn’t be wasting time here; some bystander could see them and make their life difficult, just like the truck driver. There was also a fucking demon lurking around somewhere. A demon that for some reason had gone after Sam… What the fuck did a demon want with a boy? A boy who’s father had been a hunter… he supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that the hunter had pissed off some demon and now it wanted revenge. He could worry about the why later.

“Sam, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already.” Dean finally said simply. It wasn’t entirely the truth. One of the reasons he hadn’t killed Sam was because he hadn’t decided whether or not he was going to, but he had pretty much made his decision by now.

“What did she want?”

* * *

Sam nodded along through his tears as Dean explained why he wasn't going to kill him. That's what Sam had been thinking too, but having confirmation was nice. Sam scooted even closer to Dean now, reaching out a hand to clutch at Dean's jeans lightly. He peered outside the car, not seeing anyone but she _had_ vanished into thin air. Maybe she was invisible?

"She wanted me to come out of the car," Sam said quietly, his sobbing quieting now that he knew that Dean wasn't going to eat him. "She said she'll take me to Uncle Bobby's. And when I didn't come out, she got mad at me," a few more tears leaked out of Sam's eyes. "She was scary..."

"Can we go?" Sam asked softly, still feeling jittery from the fear that she might appear at any moment and try to drag him away.

* * *

Sam believed him; either that or right now the boy was more scared of the ‘scary woman’ than he was of the scary vampire right now. Either way Sam wasn’t looking quite so terrified, at least of him, anymore.

Dean’s eyes widened however when Sam told him what she’d wanted. For Sam to leave the car… the car must have some kind of protections on it, that’s why she didn’t simply take the boy, but that wasn’t what shocked Dean. It was the fact that she’d offered to take Sam back to ‘Uncle Bobby’ and Sam had stayed in the car. It was a damned good thing that Sam hadn’t trusted her. But the fact that she’d known who Sam was well enough to offer to take the boy to someone he knew, trusted… and to try to make Sam afraid of him… She knew Sam’s family? Knew what he had done to Sam’s father?

Who the fuck was this demon? What the hell did she want with this boy?

And who the hell was Uncle Bobby? Did that mean that Sam _did_ have family he could go to? Maybe not… if that demon bitch knew enough about the boy, and whoever Uncle Bobby was, there was a good chance the man was already dead.

Fuck… this was all complicated enough already and now…

When Sam asked if they could leave, Dean nodded. He could try to figure out what the fuck was going on back at the motel room. Sam was still sick and needed medicine and rest. So the vampire helped Sam to settle back in his seat once more, wrapped the blanket around him, and gave him some tissues to wipe off his face and blow his nose. Then Dean threw his purchases from the drug store into the back seat and looking around once more at the dark parking lot he got in the car.

Salt was looking pretty damned good right about now. If Sam’s father was smart enough to have the car warded, then the hunter probably had supplies somewhere too. He’d ask Sam once they got back to the motel room.

Dean drove quickly back to the motel and carried Sam inside, tucking the boy into bed right away.

“Where did your father keep his hunting supplies?” The vampire asked once the boy was settled.

* * *

When Dean picked him up to carry him into the motel room, Sam shamelessly hung off him, arms tight around Dean's neck and legs wrapped around Dean's side. What surprised him afterward was that Dean tucked him in. Like, he actually tucked Sam into bed. Sam watched with wide eyes, because the only other person to tuck him in had been Pastor Jim for that one summer they had stayed with him. Dad didn't tuck him in much. If he was around, he would give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him to go to bed.

So Sam, now feeling warm from more than just the fever, settled happily into the covers pulled all the way up to his nose. At Dean's question, Sam nodded a little.

"There's a false bottom in the trunk," Sam said, scooting closer to Dean. "There is holy water in there too. Daddy says it makes bad things burn."

 

~~

 

She watched the vampire carry the boy into the motel. She had fucked this one up bad by approaching the boy too soon. She hadn't counted on the car being warded though, otherwise that boy would be in boss' possession right this moment. Now the vampire was warned of her presence, and he seemed unlikely to let the boy go.

This was all going so wrong. Boss was going to have her head. She didn't want to be the kink in his plans.

As she watched the way the vampire took care of Sam, she knew she had her work cut out for her, specially since it seemed like both of them were going to be on their guard for a while.

It was time to take a step back, and she'll strike when they've relaxed a little.

And with that thought, she disappeared, but she didn't go far.

* * *

Dean nodded when Sam told him where his father hid his ‘tools of the trade’. Honestly, he probably should have known, there weren’t many other places to hide such items in the car, but he didn’t want to waste time hunting for the things they’d need. Even though he’d told Sam not an hour ago that nothing ‘bad’ would come in the room while Dean was there, he was starting to think a bit of salt on the thresholds wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The vampire was confident in his abilities, sure, but he wasn’t stupid and he hadn’t lived this long without being careful… well, more careful than he’d been since he’d met the boy. His presence had obviously deterred the demon somewhat, since she hadn’t approached them while Dean was around and had left when Sam’s cries had alerted him something was wrong. So she didn’t want to tangle with him, but he wasn’t going to take that for granted. If she came again he was going to be ready. Dean didn’t know why a demon was after Sam, but he wasn’t going to give the bitch a chance to get close to the boy again.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” Dean told Sam, quickly went back out to the car, and opened the trunk. The false bottom opened easily enough and Dean whistled softly seeing just how well stocked the car really was. Dean was beginning to think that luck might have been on his side when he’d faced off against Sam’s father.

Dean grabbed a bag of rock salt and a milk jug that had ‘holy water’ written on the side of it in black marker. Shutting the trunk he also picked up the bags that had Sam’s clothes and medicine in them from the back seat. Locking up the car was a little difficult considering how loaded his hands were but he managed and headed back inside the motel room quickly.

He dropped the bags and the holy water down on the table, and started pouring a thick line of salt along the door and window frames. That done he did feel much better and the vampire went back to the bags to find Sam’s medicine and his new pajamas. He read the instructions on the medicine bottles carefully and measured out the correct dosage of the medicines, and returned to Sam’s side.

“Alright, take this; it should make you feel better.” Dean said, handing over the little cups of flavored medicine. “Do you want to put on your pajamas?” 

* * *

Sam was surprised to see just how much Dean was taking care of him, and it made him realize that the scary lady was wrong. Dean wouldn't kill him. Dean was trying to protect him... and even though Dean had killed Daddy, and Sam still had a hard time remembering that Daddy wasn't coming back, Sam was starting to like the vampire.

He watched as Dean poured salt over the threshold of the door as well as the windows before he brought medicine and clothes to Sam. He drank the medicine easily, almost enjoying the sweet fruity taste of it, and when Dean asked him if he wanted to wear his pajamas, Sam nodded quickly. He stood up too quickly though, swaying a little in his place before he was steady again.

"Bear jammies!" Sam exclaimed in a high pitched voice that broke at the end when he saw the pajamas. Between the new teddy bear and the new pajamas, Sam was the happiest six year old in the world right now. Even the scary lady didn't ruin it for him. The pajamas were soft and warm, and they had long sleeves so Sam's arms were warm too, and Sam really, really liked them. The bears on them were in various poses of sleep and one of them, over the pocket, was dreaming of honey.

Once he was done admiring the pajamas, Sam scooted closer to Dean before he gingerly wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and rested his cheek against his belly. "Thank you, Dean," Sam said softly. He really was grateful, and he really was starting to like Dean. In the past week or so, Dean had done so much for Sam even though he had been an absolute pain-in-the-ass, as Dad used to say, and so Sam was starting to want to stick near Dean. Specially when the scary lady had run right before Dean showed up. The scary lady was scared of Dean because Dean was big and strong and he liked Sam too.

Well, Sam was pretty sure Dean liked Sam too.

* * *

Dean was glad that the boy took the medicine without a fuss and he hoped it worked quickly. He wondered if he should use the thermometer to take the boy’s temperature now or wait until after he’d rested a while. What if the medicine didn’t work? What if he had to take the boy to the hospital? The damned doctors would start asking questions that Dean couldn’t possibly answer, at least not without being arrested. He could only hope that it didn’t come to that and Sam only had a cold that would clear up soon.

However when the boy suddenly got up from the bed to put his pajamas on and Dean had to steady him that didn’t ease his mind one bit. Worry filled his eyes even as a small smile tugged at his lips at the child’s excited exclamation. Sam certainly seemed to like teddy bears.

The vampire helped the boy change into his pajamas quickly. Sam certainly seemed much more comfortable wearing clothes that fit him once more. He was about to help Sam back into bed when Sam thanked him and suddenly hugged him and Dean froze. His hands hovered a little in mid air, as though unsure what to do.

When was the last time someone had hugged him? He couldn’t remember. Had it ever happened? Dean was sure it had, a long time ago, maybe when he was a human. But that was such a long time ago he barely remembered that life anymore.

Since he’d found Sam everything had changed in such a short period of time. Barely a flicker of a moment compared to his long life and yet he wasn’t sure he could go back to that life. He’d been alone for such a long time. He’d been content to be alone. It was safer to be alone… But now he wasn’t alone and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone again.

One of his hands finally settled on the boy’s slim shoulder while his other found its way into Sam’s hair.

“You’re welcome.” He replied, his fingers petting through Sam’s hair that was still soft even though it was a little damp with sweat.

Dean had no idea how he was going to do this, how he was going to raise a child… a child being hunted by a demon at that… But he supposed he better figure it out damned soon. He needed to plan and prepare. As soon as Sam was feeling better. 

* * *

Sam wriggled happily when Dean petted his hair. Dean was warm, and his shirt was soft, and strangely enough, Dean made Sam feel safe... which Sam didn't understand because just two days or so ago, Dean had scared Sam so, so badly... but it almost felt like that had been a different Dean, and this Dean was another Dean.

Sam liked this Dean. This Dean was nice.

He looked up at the vampire, chin resting on Dean's belly as he gave the older man a small grin before letting him go. He crawled into bed, pulling the covers up around him before he grabbed the teddy bear and the TV remote. He quickly found the cartoon channel again, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated on finding it, and now it had Cinderella on. Sam grinned a watery grin at Dean before he hugged the teddy bear tightly to himself, pressing his face into the soft fur as he watched the Fairy Godmother make Cinderella a pumpkin carriage. "Bibbidi-Bobbidi..." Sam muttered as the fat lady on screen bounced along with the song. "Boo..." Sam managed to whisper before his eyelids grew too heavy and he was out. The medicine made him sleep deeply, almost to the point of unconsciousness, and Sam dreamed of fairies and fruity medicines and teddy bears that were pirates that kidnapped Cinderella. Then Dean came to rescue Cinderella and they kissed, and then Sam saw there was a storm and the ship they were on started sinking, so Dean grabbed Sam and he started flying.

Several times during the night, he felt himself waking, but then he got dragged into sleep again before he was fully conscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam had been under the weather now for a little over a week. The first few days were the worst as the boy's fever spiked several times, climbing to over 101 degrees. Dean had made sure Sam drank as much water as he could hold down, even though the boy hadn't eaten much, and did his best to keep the fever under conrol with the help of cool baths. Thankfully the boy slept through most of the worst of it but when he was awake the child often fluctuated between extreme clinginess and extreme crankiness. Dean had done his best to calm Sam through the former and be as patient as he could through the latter even though it wasn't easy.

  
Thankfully the boy's fever had broken a couple of days ago and now all they had to worry about was the never ending river of snot that Sam's nose produced and a lingering cough. Honestly Dean didn't know how it was possible that something so small could produce so much of something so disgusting. It was a good thing Dean had purchased several boxes of Kleenex.

Not wanting to leave Sam alone at all after the demon had attacked Sam in the car Dean hadn't even left the motel room for the boy's food. Instead he'd ordered whatever takeout he could from anywhere that delivered. Sam had probably eaten way more pizza than was healthy, but the boy seemed to enjoy that the most and after not having eaten much over the course of his illness Dean was just glad Sam was eating something.

During the long hours Sam slept, when Dean wasn't cooling the boy off with a wet facecloth or cleaning up used Kleenex, the vampire started making plans for his new life. Their new life. Dean had changed identities many times throughout his long years so the process wasn't really anything new, but he'd never had a child to account for before.

The first thing he'd had to decide was what his relationship to Sam would be. The most obvious would be to say that Sam was his son, but as the child grew older the believability of that would become less and less and Dean would rather not have to change identities again to account for it. So finally he'd decided he would name Sam as his younger brother who'd he'd been made guardian of when their parents died.

After that had been decided it was easy enough to make the right calls, and pay the right fees to the right people to get the documents he needed to make everything nice, neat, and legal. Soon Dean 'Winchester' would have a social security card, birth certificate, driver's license, bank accounts, and a new little brother to look after. He hadn't yet asked Sam what he thought of that arrangement, and probably wouldn't for a while yet. At least not till everything was finalized and Sam was feeling better.

Unfortunately now Dean had a bigger problem to worry about. It had been over two weeks, almost three, since the vampire had his last meal… Sam's father… It was longer than Dean had went without feeding in a while. Sure, he'd gone longer before, usually when he was trying to throw off the trail of hunters, but the lack of blood was starting to affect him. His mood was irritable at best and his patience almost nonexistent. He was snapping at Sam more and more often for little things. The sound of the boy's heartbeat was distracting, always distracting, he couldn't sleep and that just made his mood worse. The hunger always there and growing sharper day by day, hour by hour.

He needed blood. Soon. Yet if he left the room… what if the demon returned while Dean was out feeding? But if he did not feed soon Dean knew he was going to do something he would regret. Either yelling at Sam or worse.

Finally one night, closer to morning, while Sam was deep asleep, Dean double checked the salt lines on the thresholds and slipped out of the room silently. He wouldn't go far. He would feed and return as quickly as he could. Normally Dean didn't like feeding so close to where he was staying, but he was planning on leaving tomorrow morning anyway. Hopefully they would be long gone before the body was even found.

* * *

Sam had a miserable week, to say the least. His small cold and quickly bloomed into a full flu, and Sam had spent most of the week either feeling cranky at everything and everyone, or being so miserable that he kept breaking into tears. Dean, surprisingly, had been incredibly patient and hadn't snapped at Sam much at all... except lately, but Sam didn't understand why when he, as Sam started getting better, he was cranky lesser and lesser everyday. Yet, Dean's annoyance with Sam seemed to increase...

At least Sam wasn't hot anymore. He hated being hot. It made him sweat and shiver at the same time, and then it got into his dreams and he remembered that Dad used to call them 'fever dreams'. He hated fever dreams. They were so hard to wake up from! And they were almost always nightmares. Most of all, he had hated the cool baths. He was already cold, and then Dean would dump him in a bath of very cold water, and Sam would be even more miserable than before. Luckily, Dean let Sam snuggle into him later, otherwise Sam's misery would have been about ten times more.

In the past week, Dean had stayed really close to Sam, and slowly Sam had learned that Dean was really nice and very patient, even if sometimes he got a little pissy. Dad got more pissy more often, if Sam was being honest. And he definitely wouldn't have had the patience to give Sam cool baths and comfort him through his more cranky moments this entire week. Last time Sam had gotten sick like this, Dad had dropped him off at Uncle Bobby's and Sam remembered Uncle Bobby snapping at Dad that he should take care of his own son's fountains of snot.

Sam giggled. Fountains of snot. He liked that.

Sam woke with a start, awakened by his own giggle. He didn't remember what he was dreaming about, but it had something to do with fountains of snot. He sat up slowly, yawning so widely that his jaw popped. Then he started to look for Dean.

No Dean.

Sam frowned, fighting down the flash of panic in him. Dad used to leave him alone all the time... it was nothing new... but he always told Sam he was leaving so that Sam would expect waking up alone the next day.

Sam frowned even more as he threw the covers aside to get out of bed. His socked feet hit the ground lightly, and he padded towards the bathroom, noting that the light was off but maybe the vampire was still in there?

"Dean?" Sam called, peeking in when he got no answer. Then he switched the light on and saw that the bathroom was empty. He switched the light off and went around to the small kitchenette. "Dean?" He called again, opening the cupboard under the sink to see if Dean was there. He wasn't.

Feeling apprehensive now, Sam took off his pajama bottoms and pulled on his jeans. After he was done putting on his shoes, he went to the door and, careful of the saltlines, opened it.

"Dean?" He called out, eyes looking for the Impala and found it parked. So if the Impala was here, then Dean wasn't far either... right? Maybe... maybe Dean was hurt?

Sam looked down on the salt lines, knowing that he was supposed to stay inside them... but what if Dean was hurt and Sam didn't move and then Dean died? What if no one ever came to get Sam because Sam wouldn't leave the salt line?

Sam chewed on his lower lip, wondering what to do.

 

~

 

She had been watching them for a while now, feeling just as entertained as frustrated sometimes. Watching the vampire flounder as to how to take the best care of the young child, and a sick one at that, was highly entertaining. However, she saw how close the two had gotten, and this would be a problem later. Earlier, when she could have just lifted the child before they got too close, the vampire wouldn't have been a problem... now? Now she was fairly certain the vampire would track them. Even lesser vampires were very proficient trackers, being predators by nature, and once they had a scent it was extremely difficult to hide their prey from them...

This vampire? Was no newbie. She could sense his strength, and if she took the boy from him, she would make a formidable enemy. And right now, being as she was a bit of a newbie as well, she had no back up. No one would even twitch if she got sliced and diced by the vamp.

Oh what a predicament.

Her moment came when the vampire snuck out late one night, leaving the sleeping child in bed. She smiled, knowing his reason for leaving. The vampire hadn't drank any blood in over two weeks, possibly coming on three, and if the vamps had 'cattle' available, she knew they liked to feed as often as twice a week. This vamp? Must be starving...

And must be weak.

Smile curling ruby lips, the demon stalked to where the vampire disappeared. Before he could feed, she was going to behead him. Then the boy would be hers for the taking. Her smile grew as she curled her fingers around her favorite blade, something others called the Klaww of Death. The long blade curved out, razor sharp on both sides and all she needed was the one moment where she could get that blade around the vampire's neck. The one pull, and the vampire's troubles would be no more.

But first! Maybe she could reason with him?

"Hey!" She called out to the broad back of the vampire. She intended to talk to him and/or kill him before he fed, so it was best to catch him now. "I need to talk to you about the boy."

She took a few steps closer, her hips swaying as she walked but she still stopped a healthy distance away. She wanted fair warning if the vampire was going to rush her, and in case he did, she had her blade hidden behind her back ready for him. "My boss needs him. You have him. How about I take him off your hands? He's a handful, and you'll be back to your vampire-y ways before you know it, and my boss won't go off with my head! How's that for a deal?"

* * *

Dean hated these small hick towns out in the middle of nowhere. Not only was everyone in everyone’s business but the sidewalks rolled up practically at sundown and that meant slim pickings for the vampire, especially at this time in the night. It was so much easier living close to a big city where it was practically an all you can eat buffet at any time day or night, and often several people could walk over a dead body before they noticed what it was. That was why Dean always made sure to live within an hour driving distance of a city no matter where he lived. Close enough to always have a decent meal available but far enough in the boonies to be left alone when he wished it. It wasn’t always easy finding a place to live that met those criteria.

Unfortunately Dean didn’t have that luxury right now, he didn’t want to leave Sam alone for that long. He’d also rather not go breaking into any houses to eat because killing off whole families tended to bring the media and unnecessary heat he definitely didn’t need right now. A mugging at the local truck stop would still probably cause headlines in a town like this for a while, but not as much. It was probably his best bet.

He started heading in that direction when the faint smell of sulfur announced the demon’s presence even before he heard her voice. With a low growl in his throat Dean turned around to face the demon, obviously the same one that went after Sam before. He recognized her scent. So he had been right, she wasn’t going to give up so easily.

A part of him wanted to rush back to Sam right away but the fact that she was here talking to him now meant Sam was still safe, for now. His second instinct was to rip out her throat right here and now but this might be his only chance to find out what the fuck this was all about. Boss? That didn’t sound good. That meant she wasn’t working alone. He needed to know more. So as hard as it was Dean remained as nonthreatening as possible as he tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“He’s a little young for recruiting, don’t you think?” Dean replied, doing his best to keep the growl out of his voice. He let his eyes travel down and up the ‘meat suit’ the demon had acquired. It certainly had good taste.

“What does your ‘boss’ want him for? Must be something big to go through all this trouble. Maybe the boy is worth something after all? I might be willing to ‘negotiate’.” Let her think that Dean was willing to negotiate for a ‘better’ deal. It would be easier if she thought he was just greedy rather than… caring… for the boy. 

* * *

She raised an eyebrow, surprised. She was convinced she'll have to fight the vampire, but maybe the vampire was holding on to the boy out of some fucked up sense of guilt or something. Whatever his reasons, he seemed glad to get rid of the boy, and that was good. She wasn't too excited about having to fight off a vamp who just reeked of power...

"What he's for isn't for you to know," she said, daring to take a step closer. "I'd offer you more, but I don't know what you want..." she took another step closer. "I doubt you want money..." she came even closer "I doubt you want power..." she stopped about five feet away from Dean, hip jutting out to the side, one hand still behind her. She could never be too careful. "Name your price."

She could almost taste victory. The boy would be hers, and then she'll be favored by the boss as the newbie who did what other demons could not.

 

~

 

Sam grabbed the edge of the doorway, leaning out of the room but his feet were still behind the salt line. He only got a few inches out before he couldn't tilt any further. He tried looking around the motel, but Dean wasn't anywhere he could see.

"Dean?" Sam called out, feeling a little lost and confused. He curled his fingers in his bear jammies, twisting the soft material in an agitated action. "Dean?" He called out again. No answer.

Sam bit his lip, shuffling in place as he toed the salt line. He shouldn't step out. He'll get into trouble if he did...

But what if Dean was hurt?

Sam imagined Dean lying somewhere, bleeding, or worse, and he hardened his jaw and puffed out his chest. Daddy taught him how to shoot, even if sometimes he had difficulty holding up the gun. But Sam was stronger now. It had been weeks and weeks ago when Sam hadn't been able to hold a gun. He bet he could pick it up easily now.

So he looked back into the room and found the Impala's keys on the dresser. He reached up, his forefinger just long enough to get the keys, and then he was off. He boldly stepped over the salt line and jogged to the car, opening the trunk and getting to the false bottom. He found the gun Daddy had been teaching him with and pulled it out, checking the bullets like Daddy had taught him.

_Always check to see if your gun's loaded, son. Even if you know it's loaded, check again. It may save your life one day._

The gun was loaded, and Sam carefully snapped the chamber back into place.

"Dean?!" Sam called out, and then he started running in a random direction, looking for the vampire, his little hands curled around the gun, finger not even on the trigger.

* * *

Guess it was too much to hope for that she’d spill the beans that easily. So she wasn’t that stupid. But she _was_ dumb enough to believe he was willing to bargain for the boy. She was also dumb enough to come closer to him. His eyes watched her intently as she did so, reading her body language. He saw her relax a little, but as cocky and confident as she pretended to be he could see she was still cautious. She didn’t want to fight him. She was afraid of him.

She should be.

Did she honestly believe he didn’t know she was armed? He might not be able to see what she held behind her but he didn’t need to. There wasn’t much that could kill a vampire besides a beheading, and he didn’t think she had a flamethrower back there.

Dean allowed a smile to curve his lips that had made plenty of women of all ages go weak in the knees. His eyes trailing down her body once again, this time slower and more meaningfully.

“Money? I have plenty of that already. Power? Not interested.” Dean agreed with her assessment, allowing his voice to drop a couple of octaves as he took a couple steps forward. Within her reach, but she was also in his.

“Let’s see… what else is there?” He asked an almost playful note to his tone.

Then he heard it. His name. Sam… god damn it… Dean wasn’t far from the motel room but the boy’s shout was still far closer than it should have been. He had been able to hear it with his enhanced senses, but he didn’t think she had yet. She would soon though if Sam came any closer. He had run out of time. Dean didn’t particularly like the taste of demon blood… but it would do.

Without warning Dean lunged for the demon, his fangs descended. Fighting a demon wasn’t like fighting a human, they were far stronger, quicker, then there was the annoying habit of them being able to toss you around like a ragdoll with their minds. Dean wasn’t going to let her have that chance. He went straight for her throat. 

* * *

She should have known the deal was too good to be true. The vampire was faster than she had thought he would be, and before she could do anything, the vampire's teeth were in her throat, draining the blood from her. She felt her power drain, strength leaving her, but she had just enough strength left to lift up the arm holding the curved blade. Then, the blade was resting against the back of Dean's neck, the curve curling around as though it was embracing the vampire.

"Let me go, or I'll slice through your neck," she warned. She would have loved to toss him aside, but a demon's power was in their blood, and currently, she had precious little of it.

"Dean!"

Her eyes snapped up, going pitch black as she heard the shout. The boy was here. Outside the protection of the salt. It was now or never. "Let me go!" She yelled just as Sam rounded the corner and noticed the demon and vampire entwined. Sam's eyes widened. "Dean!" He yelled again, lifting up the gun just as the demon raised her blade, bringing it down in a curve and Sam panicked. If Dean died now, where would he go? And he liked Dean! He didn't want another person he liked to die.

"NO!" Sam screeched. Daddy hadn't taught him how to shoot moving targets yet because he had trouble enough controlling the recoil, but right now he had to hit the demon, and he had to do it quickly or she'll hurt Dean, or even kill him. "Dean!" He yelled before he aimed as best as he could on her moving arm and shot. The gun angled badly, making Sam stumble, but he didn't let it get him down. When he aimed the gun one more time, the demon snapped pitch black eyes narrowed in rage at him, and with a flick of a finger, Sam went flying into the nearest wall. His finger tightened on the trigger of the gun reflexively, and the bullet went flying, hitting the hand that was holding the blade.

It was purely by luck, but don't tell anyone that!

Just as Sam hit the wall hard, the breath getting knocked out of him and he fell to the ground, fighting the blooming pain in his back, the bullet tore through the demon's hand, making her drop the knife just as it nicked Dean's neck. This was it. She had to get out. She opened her mouth and with a scream, a column of black smoke exited the body, disappearing into the air. As soon as the demon left, the woman's body folded limply, no life in her anymore.

When Sam saw that the scary lady didn't look so dangerous anymore, he let himself feel the pain in his body, which was a lot. It hurt, so bad... like everything had gotten rattled inside him. His breathing was a little wheezy, and he felt shaky. Sam got to his knees, sitting there looking at Dean. He looked up, lips quivering as he got ready to cry, ready to gather as much pity as he could from the vampire. "Dee!" He called, holding his shaky arms up.

* * *

Her hesitation had been her mistake. The vampire’s body slammed into the demon’s like a freight train, bearing them both to the ground. The arm that had been behind her, concealing her weapon, was now pinned beneath her. Dean’s rows of sharp fangs tore at her vulnerable throat as he pinned her struggling body to the ground. It wasn’t easy. She was strong, even for a low level demon and Dean had been weak from hunger but with every mouthful of blood he swallowed she grew weaker while he grew stronger.

But then, beyond the smell of blood and sulfur he smelled Sam. Too close. Too damned close. How the fuck had the boy found him? Why hadn’t he stayed in the motel room where it was safe? Why the fuck had he woken up in the first place? Couldn’t that boy do one thing that he was supposed to do?!

His moment of distraction was now his mistake when he felt the sharpened blade against his throat. But the demon really was a stupid bitch apparently because instead of just killing him she threatened him first. That only made him bite down harder, ripping into her neck even more viciously as he grabbed at her arm, keeping the knife away from his one true Achilles heel.

Or so he thought, because in the next moment Sam was there. He lifted his head instinctively at the boy’s shout. The demon seeing her prey out in the open seemed to find new determination and managed to wrench her arm out of his grasp… and then the gunshot made both demon and vampire freeze. God damn it! Where the fuck had Sam gotten a gun?! He didn’t need any help god damn it! He could handle this on his own, but now someone would have heard the gunshot and would eventually come to investigate…

_Worry about the fucking demon that was trying to behead you now, worry about Sam’s stupidity later._ Dean ordered himself as he finally managed to grab the bitch’s wrist holding the knife and started to twist, fully intending to break her arm to make her release the knife if he had to. The next gunshot didn’t come even close to hitting either of them, which Dean should probably be grateful for, but the demon obviously lost its patience, or had realized the boy was now also his Achilles heel, and threw Sam against a wall.

Magically the boy’s final shot actually hit the demon’s hand making her drop the knife but at the moment Dean didn’t even care. With an enraged roar he once more went for her throat, this time no longer even feeding, just ripping savagely. Realizing she had lost the demon soon fled its host and only once the dead body went limp in his arms did Dean cease his attack. Staring down at the empty vessel, his eyes still burning with rage he wanted to rip it apart even now that it was empty, but he didn’t have time… and he had more important things to worry about.

Dean left the woman’s body where it was and rose quickly, his eyes widening in worry when he saw Sam. The boy was obviously hurt. His anger seemed to drain out of him in an instant as he rushed over to Sam’s side. He could yell at Sam later. As soon as he was sure the boy was ok. Right now he scooped the child up in his arms as gently as he could and held him as though he were the most fragile glass.

Dean wanted to check Sam over but they needed to get out of here, out of this town, right now. If the demon didn’t return with help then someone would soon come to investigate the gunshots and that meant police. They didn’t need either happening right now.

“We need to get out of here.” Dean said, still holding Sam carefully Dean started to run back towards the motel. Telling himself that if Sam was so important to the demon that she wouldn’t have hurt him very badly. Back at the motel room Dean got them inside and carefully set Sam down on the bed. They needed to get out of here, but he needed to know if he should be racing for the hospital or just out of this town.

“Are you all right? Sam, does anything hurt very badly or feel broken?”

* * *

In Dean's arms, Sam sat limply, head resting against Dean's shoulder and his back curved in an attempt to relieve his back muscles of the strain of holding up his torso. He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck tightly, sniffling quietly. He wasn't badly hurt, but he felt the need to get as much attention from Dean as possible. When they were back at the room, Dean set Sam down gently on the bed and Sam squirmed a little, lips quivering again.

He shook his head at Dean's question. Nothing felt broken, and he could breathe okay too. But his back was one big area of pulsating, aching pain. He slouched on the bed because sitting up made his back ache. "Just my back," Sam said softly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "The scary lady hit _hard_!" Sam complained, eyes overflowing with tears. "And she was going to kill you! I don't want you to die!" And with that, Sam was crying openly. "And I lost Daddy's gun!" He wailed. When he had fallen, the gun had slipped out of his hands, and he hadn't picked it up again. He had forgotten Daddy's gun. It made him very, very sad.

* * *

Dean wasn’t surprised when Sam said his back hurt, considering that’s where the boy had been hit when the demon bitch threw him into the wall. It was probably just bruised badly. Dean didn’t smell any blood and if Sam’s ribs had been broken or his spine damaged either the child wouldn’t be able to move or he’d be in much more pain than he was now. But before Dean could lift up the back of Sam’s shirt just to make sure Sam started wailing and the vampire could only sit there stunned for a moment not quite believing what he heard.

Sam had been worried about him? More likely the boy was just afraid of being alone and Sam was smart enough to realize a vampire taking care of him was marginally better than a demon kidnapping him. The boy was probably also much more upset by the fact that he’d lost his father’s gun than anything happening to Dean.

Oddly enough Dean’s first instinct was to go back and search for the weapon, but he knew he couldn’t. By now the body might have been found and he simply couldn’t risk it. They couldn’t even risk staying in this town. He should be packing their things up, getting Sam in the car, and driving away right now, not waste time trying to comfort the boy.

“I’m sure your father would understand, Sam.” Dean found himself saying instead but even as he spoke the words he wasn’t sure they were true. Sam had just ‘saved’ the monster that had killed his father. Right now Sam was too young to fully understand everything that was happening but one day he would. When that day came it was a good chance that the boy would put a machete to Dean’s neck himself. Until then…

Until then Sam was being hunted by demons and Dean would do whatever he could to keep the boy out of their hands. That wasn’t going to be easy… but he did know a witch in Mississippi that owed him a favor. Maybe she could concoct some kind of spell that would keep Sam off demon radar. Just another reason they should be getting the hell out of dodge as quickly as they could. But first he had to make sure Sam understood never to do what he had done ever again.

“Sam, she wasn’t going to kill me. I had everything under control.” Dean told Sam. It was true enough, everything was going fine until Sam had come rushing into the fray. If he’d had a few more minutes with the demon maybe Dean could have even gotten more out of her on why the demons wanted Sam in the first place. The only thing Dean could think of was that Sam’s father had really pissed off the ‘boss’ that demon mentioned and it was some kind of revenge they were after. Why else would a demon want a six year old boy?

“It’s not me they’re after. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger like that again, for any reason. Understand me?”

* * *

Sam wiped his tears off with his sleeve, sniffling a little but feeling better because Dean was alive and okay and here, and Daddy's gun was still missing but Dean said Daddy would understand, but he wasn't so sure because if he was here, Sam was sure Dad would have yelled at him. Now that things were calm again, Sam realized that he had done a lot of things wrong. He never should have left the protected room. He shouldn't have gone after Dean, and he definitely shouldn't have brought a gun along because he can't really shoot it right.

But he saved Dean, so he's not too upset about doing the wrong things.

Although his back hurt a lot... so maybe he'll think twice about rescues next time.

"But I helped you..." Sam said softly, pouting a little. "Didn't I?"

Sam scooted a little closer to Dean so that Sam was sitting barely on the bed, only his tailbone resting on the wooden edge. "She was going to hurt you," Sam said, still quiet. "Was she hurting you because of me?" If possible, Sam's voice got even quieter. At least the scary lady was dead now.

* * *

Dean sighed softly and gathered the boy back into his arms since Sam wasn’t really sitting on the bed anymore anyway. Besides Sam wasn’t badly hurt and they needed to leave. He really hoped they hadn’t already wasted too much time, but considering Dean didn’t hear any sirens yet they probably still had a few more minutes before the cops showed up. Too bad that wasn’t the only thing Dean was worried about showing up. The demon had escaped after all. She wasn’t going to be gone forever, and in fact might be on her way back with reinforcements. Dean needed to get Sam to that witch as soon as possible and hopefully she would have a way to keep the boy hidden.

“Yes, you helped.” Dean admitted, deciding it probably wouldn’t do any good trying to explain to Sam that the only reason he’d needed ‘help’ was because the boy was where he shouldn’t have been. It would only make Sam feel bad and the boy was probably feeling bad enough already. Hopefully this would be a lesson that never needed repeating.

“It wasn’t your fault.” The vampire answered the boy’s more difficult question. While it was true that if Dean had never met Sam his life would be a hell of a lot simpler right now and he wouldn’t have had any reason to tangle with the demon it wasn’t Sam’s fault. It was Dean’s fault for taking Sam in the first place. It was the hunter’s fault for trying to kill him and getting killed instead. It was probably also John Winchester’s fault the boy had a demon hit squad after him too. It wasn’t Sam’s fault.

Dean stood up, still holding Sam, and quickly began throwing their things (mostly Sam’s things) together so they could get out of dodge. He let Sam hold onto his teddy bear and blanket as Dean carried the rest of their things out to the car, throwing them in the back seat and then settling Sam in the front. Dean could hear the sirens now, faint, but getting closer.

He went around to the driver’s side of the car and got in, pulling out of the parking lot and driving at a moderate pace not wanting to attract attention. When they left the small town behind, Dean relaxed. It would be another hour or so before the sun came up and even though Dean didn’t really enjoy driving during the day that was too bad because he wanted to get to Mississippi as soon as possible. 

* * *

While Dean drove, Sam focused on not being too much of a pain. He sat still and quiet, watching as the town went past them. They had been here for only a week or so, and it already felt different to him. He had run away from Dean here, finally succeeding too, and over here was where he had decided that no, running away was no fun and Dean was nicer to him that Sam had thought at first.

Even if he got mad sometimes. And had bitten Sam. And it _hurt_. But Dean had bought him a teddy bear which Sam had named Piratey - because he had a pirate's eye patch, see? - and a really warm soft snuggle blanket that had different colored patches with animals and flowers and cartoons on them. So Dean wasn't bad. Even when he got angry. Sam had learned that when Dean started snapping at him, it was good if Sam stayed quiet for a little while. Dean usually got better a little later.

After the town had disappeared behind them, Sam grew more relaxed and started playing with the blanket and Piratey. He pulled the blanket over his head, creating a makeshift tent, and pulled the bear inside. There, he proceeded to play, making the bear a dastardly pirate that wanted to kidnap Sam's arm. It was like inside the tent, no one could hear him so he was as loud as he wanted, giggling to himself when the bear did something stupid like fall flat on his face when the hero of the story, his Dad, came to rescue the damsel.

"And then, Dad appeared!" Sam said excitedly as he imagined the bear getting a horrified expression. "Yes! Be scared, you evil pirate, Piratey!" Sam said in a deep voice, pretending to be John. "I will stab you if you don't let the pretty woman go! And I will shoot you! With bullets! Made of silver!"

"No!" Piratey yelled, scared, his voice rough and more evil. "Not John Winchester! You kill bad things! I'm bad!"

"Yes you are! You take pretty women and..." Sam thought for a moment. "You take pretty women!" Sam continued, his voice deepened to indicate John. "Bang! Bang!" And Piratey was dead.

"Oh thank you!" Sam said in a falsetto. "You saved me!"

"No! Stay away from me, pretty woman!" John's deep voice roared. "Don't come any closer! You have cooties! And I have to go back to my son, Sammy, who's my awesome, strong, super big and super-super strong sidekick. And he doesn't like cooties!"

Sam giggled, and kept playing. After a while, he accidentally bumped Dean's leg with his teddy so he pulled up the blanket to look at Dean. "Oops," he said before grinning widely at him and returning to his side of the seat. "Can I go in the backseat? There's more room to play," Sam asked, and before Dean could answer, he was scrambling over the back of the passenger seat, tangled in blankets and toys and barely made it to the backseat in one piece. He did go headfirst though, but luckily the seat was there to break his fall. After that, with all the extra room, Sam got into a very animated, very loud, play of cops and robbers, and funny enough, Sam was playing the robber.

He only lasted a little while longer before his aching back drained his energy and then Sam was snoring softly, wrapped up in the blankets with Piratey pressed against his chest.

* * *

Dean only half concentrated on what Sam was doing, he was just glad the boy was entertaining himself and wasn’t being too annoying in the process. Even if he _was_ a little loud at times, Dean didn’t really mind. Every once in a while the vampire would glance over at the boy with the blanket over his head and chuckle under his breath, amused in spite of himself.

He seriously didn’t know where Sam came up with some of the things he said. Cooties… Dean had to snort at that. In a few years the boy might have a different opinion on that front. The boy was quite imaginative, he had to give him that.

‘Piratey’ wasn’t the most original name though. Dean would have figured Sam could come up with something better than that, but if that’s what he wanted to name his teddy bear. Dean only mentally shrugged. He should probably be glad Sam liked his bear enough to think about naming it.

When Sam bumped into him he looked over at the boy and raised an eyebrow at him. Before he could answer Sam’s question if he could go into the back seat the boy was already scrambling back there.

Dean watched the boy’s antics from the rear view mirror for a couple of hours until Sam finally fell asleep. It was probably for the best since they still had a ways to go before they got to the witch he was taking Sam to. He turned on the radio but kept the volume down low so it wouldn’t wake up the sleeping boy.

After they had been on the road for a good six hours Dean decided to wake Sam up so he could eat. The boy was obviously feeling much better, and getting a good meal into him would ensure that. All that fast food probably wasn’t all the good for a growing boy.

Pulling into a much larger town than the previous ones they’d passed before he figured finding a decent sit down restaurant wouldn’t be too difficult. Sometimes being able to actually eat human food would have come in handy, like now. It had been so long, way before things like fast food ever existed, that he’d been able to eat so he had no idea what restaurants were considered good or bad.

Eventually he pulled into the parking lot of an Olive Garden. He thought he remembered some commercials and the food looked all right. After parking the car he reached to the back seat and gently shook the boy.

“Sam, wake up. Ready for something to eat?”

* * *

Sam woke up blearily, wiping his eyes as Dean's words got through to him slowly through the haze of intoxicating mid day sleep. He nodded, yawning widely as he dragged himself out of the cocoon of blanket and teddy bear. He wondered for a moment if he should bring Piratey with him, but then decided that the bear would be safer in the car.

"I want Happy Meal," Sam mumbled, reaching up and grabbing Dean's thumb with one hand while with the other he rubbed at his eyes, yawning again. He followed Dean to the restaurant quietly, because as sleepy as he was, he was quite hungry too now that he thought about it. It was like once the idea of food was mentioned, his stomach decided to start rumbling.

Inside, he stayed quietly beside Dean until they got to a booth where Sam climbed up on the seat and started looking at the menu disinterestedly. He wanted a happy meal... this was healthy stuff! They were even giving him broccoli with his chicken! That's stupid!

"Good afternoon," said a lady in a white button up shirt and dark tie. She looked like she went to one of those private schools or something. The uniform was weird. She smiled at Sam and when she looked at Dean she seemed to blush a little. Sam frowned, looking at Dean too. Dean didn't look _that_ good. Stupid girls got all weird around his Dad and now with Dean too. "How are you today?"

"I want a Happy Meal," Sam said stubbornly, already disliking the lady, but all she did was smile at him.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but we don't have a happy meal. How about some mac and cheese?" She offered and Sam drooled almost instantly at the thought. He glanced once at Dean, trying to hold on to his stubbornness before he squirmed and looked up at her.

"Is it gooey?"

She looked at him, completely serious. "The gooey-est."

Sam squirmed again, looking at Dean before looking back at the lady. "I want mac and cheese," he muttered, and the lady smiled brightly.

"Excellent choice!" Then she turned to Dean. "And what can I get you, sir?" She asked, and her smile was a lot more different than the one she had given Sam. This one was a lot more inviting in a not very PG way. "And will a missus be joining us today?" She asked. Sam rolled his eyes, glaring at her.

* * *

Dean decided that Sam was rather cute when he was half asleep. Unfortunately the boy was also more stubborn than usual when he was half asleep.

A Happy Meal… why did he even bother? Maybe it would have been better if he just took the boy to McDonalds after all. He didn’t really want to risk Sam throwing a tantrum or something and making their life difficult. But he was determined to get something into Sam that was at least partially nutritious. There had to be something on the menu that the boy would eat.

So he took Sam into the restaurant despite the boy’s insistence on wanting a happy meal. The look on the boy’s face after they sat down and got their menus wasn’t very promising. He was afraid he might have an argument on his hands after all but their waitress took the matter into her own hands. Dean’s eyebrows rose significantly when she managed to get Sam to choose something with surprisingly little effort.

Dean returned the woman’s smile and gave her a nod of appreciation. He wasn’t all that certain Mac and Cheese was all that more healthier than the junk food Sam had been eating, but it was a start. He figured he could order something for ‘himself’ and get Sam to try some of it. It would look odd if he didn’t order anything anyway.

Of course he didn’t fail to notice the very inviting looks their waitress was giving him. She definitely wasn’t bad looking. If he didn’t have Sam to look after Dean would have seriously considered taking the woman up on her unspoken offer… maybe getting himself a meal out of it as well.

Glancing at Sam he could see the boy had noticed the looks their waitress was giving him as well and Sam didn’t seem happy by it. It was so amusing Dean barely managed to contain his laughter.

“I’ll take the chicken alfredo with vegetables.” Dean gave his order to the waitress, pretending not to notice her interest. “It’ll just be us today, darling.”

* * *

Sam glared at her all the way till she disappeared, and then Sam turned to look at Dean before yawning widely, mouth open so large he showed the world his uvula. Once he was done yawning, he smacked his lips a few times before grabbing the oil and pepper bottles on the side. While he played with the two, he swung his legs underneath the table, accidentally kicking Dean in the shins a few times, and apologizing with a halfhearted 'sorry' every time.

When the food came, Sam ignored the lady and frowned at his mac n cheese. It had vegetables on the side. Like, full vegetables. Sam frowned harder, picking up a broccoli floret and looking at it like it was something alien.

"Paul, our chef, made those specially for you," the lady said to Sam when she saw him eying the vegetables. "He promises they're yummy. Try some." Then he put Dean's plate in front of him, smiling at him widely. "Enjoy your meal, sir."

Sam glared at his food, lips turned down as he picked up a piece of carrot. "Why are there yucky vegetables next to my mac n cheese?" Sam asked no one in particular. Next to the vegetables, there was toasted bread that smelled amazing. Sam picked it up gingerly, nibbling on the side before he took a full bite. "Garlic bread! Dean! Garlic bread!" He said excitedly before finishing it in a few more bites. After that, now that his hunger had peaked fully, he polished off the macaroni before testing one of the cauliflowers, and finding them buttery and delicious. Surprised, Sam finished that off too.

Now with a full stomach, Sam had more energy. His sleep had left him and he started bouncing in his chair. "Can I get icecream, Dean? Please? Please? Can I? I want icecream!" He squirmed in his seat, trying to be as much of a pain as he could because he wanted his icecream.

While Sam was begging, a man who was sitting on the table next to them got up, came around to their booth, and sat down next to Sam. Sam watched with wide eyes as the man, in his forties or so, smiled sweetly at Sam and then at Dean.

"Hello, Dean," the man said, still smiling. "I see you've taken little Sammy here under your wing. It's a sweet gesture, even if a little unnecessary. You attacked one of my children today. That's not very nice," the man said, still smiling and he reached out, wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders and bringing him close. Sam was frozen solid, staring at Dean with wide eyes. He didn't want icecream anymore. "You going to eat that?" The man asked before he slid Dean's plate over to himself, picking up a piece of chicken and popping it in his mouth. "Mm... if humans deserve to live for one thing, it's because of their culinary skills."

* * *

After their food was ordered Sam went about pretty much ignoring Dean, like the boy was pissed at him for some reason, and the vampire wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe it was just general crankiness. Sam had just gotten over being sick and he was probably still tired. He really hoped the boy wasn’t getting sick again. When Sam kicked him under the table Dean’s eyebrow rose, wondering if Sam had done it on purpose. Even if he hadn’t the boy certainly didn’t sound too sincere in his apology, especially when Sam kicked him again. They were definitely going to have a little chat after they left the restaurant.

Thankfully the food arrived rather quickly and Dean gave the waitress a grateful smile. If nothing else he was leaving her a good tip for dealing so well with Sam’s attitude.

“You don’t know if they’re ‘yucky’ if you don’t try them.” Dean replied to Sam’s comment but he was sure the boy pretty much ignored him. At least he was eating. Dean didn’t eat himself of course but he moved the food around on his plate enough to make it look like he had. He could get the food to go and Sam could eat it later.

Sam polished off his food rather quickly, even the vegetables much to Dean’s surprise, and then started begging for ice cream. Dean wondered if he should agree. Sam had been somewhat of a pain in the ass so far and Dean certainly didn’t want to reward bad behavior. Of course if he said no he might have a tantrum on his hands…

A moment later Dean was wishing that was his only problem. Dean’s eyes narrowed when the ‘man’ suddenly sat down across from him, next to Sam, and one whiff told him exactly what the ‘man’ was. Demon. Powerful one by the scent. A low growl was already forming in Dean’s throat even before the demon spoke. When the demon had the nerve to actually put his arm around the boy however the vampire’s expression turned murderous.

“Take your hand off the boy before I rip it off.” Dean growled, deadly serious.

* * *

The man frowned at Dean, but didn't lose his smile. "Let's have a civil chat, shall we?" The man said simply, grabbing another piece of chicken off the plate and popping it into his mouth. "There's no need for threats and such. I'm sure we can act like civilized adults, hmm?"

He looked down at Sam who was sitting as still as he could, eyes flicking between Dean and the man currently with his arm around him. "You are a difficult boy to find, Sammy," the man said with a smile again, rubbing his hand up and down Sam's arm. Then he turned to Dean. "Let's just discuss this, before you decide you want to bathe the restaurant in my blood or whatever else barbaric you're thinking about." The man flipped his hand in front of him in a dismissive gesture.

The man let go of the arm around Sam's shoulders, and the moment he did so, Sam slipped underneath the table in one quick move and popped back out on the other side, sitting down next to Dean and wrapping both his arms around Dean's waist to hold on tight to him.

"Clearly, we are at odds here about the boy," the man said, indicating Sam with a flick of his chin. "I don't want to fight. I just want to discuss some terms and hopefully come to a resolution. I suspect that if I have to kill you, the boy might be a tad difficult to handle, don't you think?"

* * *

Civil…

He’d show the demon exactly how civil he could be while he was gutting him with his bare hands. But this demon was definitely more powerful than the bitch that had tried to take Sam before. If the two of them got into an actual fight right now it was going to get messy quickly. While Dean might not give a damned about any human casualties that might get in the way of their little spat he didn’t want to risk Sam getting hurt.

Right now there was too much of a chance of the demon simply taking what it wanted. Sam. So if it wanted to ‘talk’ first… fine. Dean knew the demon was baiting him the way he kept… touching… Sam and the angry expression on the vampire’s face never left. Not even when the demon, wisely, finally released the boy and Sam was smart enough to scurry underneath the table to him.

Dean put his arm protectively around the child, his mind already working fast figuring out the quickest escape route from the restaurant if they needed it. When the demon mentioned Sam’s ‘difficulty’ if the demon managed to kill him, Dean merely smirked.

The demon could certainly try to kill him. It had no idea who he was dealing with.

“You want to talk? Talk. You’ve got five minutes.” Dean replied, his voice barely civil. 

* * *

The man grinned widely at the threat in Dean's voice. He looked down at Sam plastered against Dean's side with a barely concealed fond smile.

"Alright then, Dean-o, here's the deal," the man started. "This boy here? He's my favorite. Favorite for what? Not your business. But the thing is, I require some things of him, things I'm not sure you'll pull through. John Winchester was doing such an amazing job of raising this one, I'm not certain you'll be good enough."

The man leaned back, lacing his fingers and putting his hands in his lap before crossing his legs as well, looking absolutely non-threatening. "I know you think I'm some kind of monster who wants to kill Sammy, but trust me that is not my intention. In fact, I'd be rather... sad... if little Sammy here died."

The man looked up at Dean, his eyes turning yellow for the brief moment it took him to blink twice. "So you see why I worry about him? After all, he's in the possession of a vam-" he looked around and his grin widened as he dropped his voice. "A vampire," the man addressed Sam directly who turned his face away, burying it in Dean's side. "And you know what vampires do to little boys, Sammy?" The man leaned a little closer. "They _eat_ them." When Sam turned his head just enough that he could look at the man with one eye, the man spoke again. "And I see he's already taken a bite, huh, kiddo?"

The demon looked up at Dean with a friendly smile. "I know the boy's uncle. He's a strong hunter, and a smart one. He'll take good care of the boy. That's all I want. For him to be taken care of. My child, Alyssa, wasn't lying when she said she'll take him to Uncle Bobby."

At the mention of Uncle Bobby, Sam's fingers tightened in Dean's shirt. He wanted to go to Uncle Bobby... but he wanted Dean to come with too.

* * *

Dean honestly didn’t think the demon would have anything to say that he would want to hear. He was right. Did the demon bastard forget who he was talking to? Dean was a vampire, a monster, just like him. He knew better than anyone what true monsters were capable of, and demons were about as bad as you could get aside from Lucifer himself. Demons were lying sons of bitches that reveled in death and destruction, the more the merrier. Dean was no saint but at least he only killed for food and to protect himself. Demons killed because they enjoyed it.

So whatever the hell Sam was the demon’s ‘favorite’ for, it couldn’t be anything good. The only thing that the vampire _did_ believe was that the demon didn’t want Sam dead. He was going through way too much trouble just for that. But Dean didn’t really care what the reason was. He wasn’t letting the demon bastard get his hands on the boy.

Maybe it was true. Maybe the demon did intend to turn Sam over to his ‘uncle’ but giving a demon what it wanted was generally always a bad idea. Dean didn’t really give a damned what this demon had planned. The vampire had no intention of getting in its way, except for where Sam was concerned. The fucker could find another favorite.

A low growl left Dean’s throat when the demon addressed Sam, trying to make the boy afraid of him. Probably trying to make Sam _want_ to go with the demon and Dean was afraid it might work. The demon wasn’t exactly behaving threateningly, unlike the vampire, and it was true, Dean _had_ bitten the boy when Sam had pissed him off. Not to mention the bastard was offering to take Sam to his family, away from the ‘big scary vampire’.

If Dean refused to take Sam to his family it definitely wasn’t going to win him any points with the boy, but if he did he’d be giving the demon exactly what it wanted. Something in his gut, an instinct that had kept him alive for a very long time, told him that had to be avoided at all costs. Sam’s life depended on it.

“How’s this for a deal?” Dean said grabbing the salt shaker off of the table, snapping off the top, and throwing its contents into the demon’s face. Knowing his little painful distraction wasn’t going to buy them much time, Dean snatched up Sam and ran for the kitchen area which was closer than the front door. Dean knocked over a waiter in his haste and ignored the surprised angry shouts from the kitchen staff. There had to be a rear entrance, where the staff took out the garbage. He had to get Sam to the car. 

* * *

The demon screamed as the salt hit his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, the salt falling off and slowly, the pain disappeared. But the vampire and child were gone too, and the demon just sighed as he stood up.

Behind him, there was a lot of commotion that he bet the fleeing vampire had caused, so the demon walked out calmly through the front door. It seemed the vampire was not interested in listening to him. This meant he'll have to bring out the big guns. Why was it that no one ever did what they were supposed to without getting stabbed and burned up a few times?

 

~

 

Sam hung on tightly to Dean as Dean dashed through the restaurant, getting them outside and to the car. Sam released his hold only long enough to get back into the car and when Dean was behind the wheel, Sam skittered up to him and wrapped his arms around Dean's torso, hiding his face in Dean's side.

"He had yellow eyes, Dean," Sam said softly, looking up at Dean. "The Yellow Eyed Demon killed Mommy," Sam explained, his voice going even quieter. "And Daddy is hunting him."

Sam's expression fell as he realized something, tears leaking out in fat droplets from his eyes. "Is he going to kill you because of me?" Sam asked and then tightened his hold on Dean, as though by holding on tightly he could keep Dean from getting hurt. He didn't want Dean to die or get hurt because of Sam... and suddenly, all these scary people were coming out, asking Dean to give Sam up...

It scared Sam, and he was also scared that Dean _will_ give him up. Sam wanted to go to Uncle Bobby, but now he didn't want to leave Dean either. He'd be the happiest boy in the world if Dean went with him to Uncle Bobby's. It was safe there, and Uncle Bobby had sigils drawn everywhere, and traps, and he had salt in the paint he had painted the house with, and there was iron in the basement.

* * *

They actually made it to the car without incident. Dean had half expected to be jumped by demons before they were even out the door. It couldn’t be this ‘easy’. It was hard to believe that ‘yellow eyes’ had come alone to collect the boy. Then again maybe the demon had just expected Dean to hand over Sam without any kind of protest or fight. Just as the demon bitch had.

Even as Dean threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot the vampire wondered why he wasn’t. Why was he so insistent on keeping Sam out of the demon’s hands? The moment the boy had come into his life it had been turned upside down. Sam wasn’t his responsibility, he never had been. This wasn’t his problem… Now on top of everything else the restaurant staff was probably right this minute calling the cops for skipping out on the bill. It was probably too much to hope that the demon had decided to pay for their meal…

When the boy suddenly scooted across the seat and clung to him, terrified, Dean realized he didn’t really care what his reasons were. It didn’t really matter. He’d already made his decision.

Dean didn’t really know what to make of Sam telling him the yellow eyed demon had killed his mother. It only raised more questions rather than answers. The demon wanting revenge or something against Sam’s father Dean could understand. But why would the damned demon want to kill Sam’s mother? And now it was after Sam… it made no sense.

“No one is going to kill me, Sam.” Dean reassured the boy, but even as he did he wondered if John Winchester had made his son similar promises… and then he’d killed Sam’s father. One day Sam would probably want to take his revenge for that and Dean couldn’t even blame him for it. He wondered if one day he would be forced to kill Sam to save his own neck… what would he do then? For so long all he’d cared about was his own survival…

Now he cared about Sam’s survival and the only way the boy was going to survive was if he could hide him from the demons. That meant he needed to get Sam to that witch and hopefully she would have a solution. If he drove for the rest of the day and night without stopping they might make it. Hopefully before the demons caught up with them again. 

* * *

The longer Sam sat there pressed against Dean's side, the more his terror left him until he was just leaning against Dean because Dean was warm and comfy and Sam was getting sleepy. It was dark outside, and Sam's eyes kept slipping shut but he blinked awake over and over again, seeing the dashboard lights and watching the speedometer move in a hypnotic rhythm. Soon enough, Sam blinked one more time and then his eyes didn't open, and he sagged next to Dean, turning into a puddle of sleepy six-year old goo.

At some point, Sam woke up blearily again, looked up at the sight of Dean driving the car and the shadows from the road and streetlights and moon all mixed together to make Sam see his Dad instead. It was John Winchester sitting there, rugged half beard and military style hair and he looked towards Sam with a smile and said, "Hey kiddo." Sam slipped back into sleep again, but not before he lay down with his head in Dean's lap, curling up into a fetal position, and muttering, "Daddy..." softly. After that, Sam slept deeply and dreamed of his father again, of John Winchester in one of his rare fatherly moods. He dreamed of that one night in July Dad had taken Sam to the park to watch the fireworks, and they had bought hot dogs, so many that Sam's stomach had ached, and then Dad had carried Sam back to the motel because Sam fell asleep halfway through.

When Sam woke up again, he instantly missed his Dad, so much that it turned him cranky and upset almost immediately. He missed Dad so much, and he wanted his Daddy now. This wasn't fun anymore. But he knew he couldn't ask Dean to take him back to his Daddy, because Dean had said that Dad was dead - which Sam didn't believe him still... not entirely - and so he sat there, quiet and sulking as he watched the scenery fly by them, waiting for Dean to take them wherever he was going to take them.

* * *

As the hours passed and the miles flew by eventually the boy’s desperate hold on him loosened as Sam began to relax, then finally fall asleep on the seat beside him. Dean knew he should probably get the boy re-situated in the seat, buckled in at the very least, but he was reluctant to wake the child up now that he was finally calm and getting some rest. The vampire’s sharp ears of course didn’t fail to notice the boy’s murmuring before he’d slipped off to slumber, probably dreaming about his dead father.

There was nothing to be done about it however, and feeling guilt would change nothing. It had been a long time since Dean had felt any kind of guilt over killing a human, and even now any guilt he felt was rather small. If he had it all to do over again he would have done the exact same thing. If it was a choice between killing John Winchester or letting the hunter kill him, he certainly wouldn’t have given his own life up to the human.

Whatever guilt he had felt over the hunter’s death had probably led Dean to taking care of the man’s son originally, but now it was more than that driving him. Dean couldn’t even really explain why he cared what happened to the child, he only knew that he did. Willing for the first time in over a century to put his life on the line for another.

Dean sighed softly and turned on the radio, keeping the volume low so as not to disturb Sam’s sleep while he drove. He needed some distraction from his thoughts.

It was a few hours into morning when the boy woke again and Dean could tell instantly that Sam wasn’t in a very good mood. He supposed he couldn’t really blame the boy, having demons after him, and being taken care of by a big scary vampire. At least they were almost there.

The town was unassuming in any way. Nice surburban neighborhoods. Well manicured lawns. People walking dogs. Kids running around the playground. Just your average white picket fence community. In fact, the house Dean finally pulled the car in front of _had_ a white picket fence and lawn gnomes of all things. Not the place you’d expect to find one of the strongest witches Dean had ever met in his life.

“Let’s go, Sam.” Dean told the boy as he put the car in park and got out. Holding out his hand for Sam to take before he led the child up the sidewalk to the small two story house.

The front door opened before they even reached it and a kind faced elderly woman stood there waiting for them. She was in her mid sixties with graying hair, but Dean had known her when she was in her early twenties. Much had changed of course but her eyes were as blue and sharp as ever. They held momentary surprise seeing him, then obvious affection.

“As I live and breathe. Dean, I didn’t expect to ever see you here again.” She said, offering the vampire a smile before turning her attention to the young boy standing next to him. “And who is this young man?”

“Annabelle, good to see you again. This is Sam. We’ve got a bit of a problem that’s right up your alley. Mind if we talk inside?” Dean asked, her eyes met his again, understanding in them and she nodded. Stepping aside and holding the door open for both of them.

“Come in, make yourselves at home.” She said. 

* * *

Sam held Dean's hand tightly as he was led to the door of a big, pretty house. Sam looked around quickly, seeing the kids playing in the lawns and Moms calling for them and the two joggers who went past them, a dog trotting in front. This was so... different.

Sam's attention returned to the door when it opened, and there was an old lady there with graying hair and blue eyes and a soft voice. She made Sam relax. He twisted a little, hiding halfway behind Dean's leg as her attention focused on him. He looked at her with one eye, always shy in the presence of strangers. As Dean went in, Sam stayed close, hand tightly gripping Dean's while he other was gripping Dean's jeans tightly.

Inside, the house was warm and welcoming, soft overstuffed couches and the smell of baking bread filling the place. Sam wondered for a moment what they were doing here, and why Dean had come here, but he didn't think too hard on it because there they were... on the table in front of the TV... big cookies with chocolate chips on them.

Sam's mouth watered and he looked up at Dean with pleading eyes, chin resting on Dean's thigh. "Dean... cookie?" He asked, not sure he was allowed to touch.

* * *

Dean looked down at Sam when the boy asked him if he could have a cookie, reminding the vampire that the boy hadn’t even had breakfast yet. He looked to Annabelle in question and the old woman smiled and nodded at the boy.

“Go ahead, sweetie. How about I get you a glass of milk to go with that?” She said to Sam but the look she gave Dean told the vampire he should follow her into the kitchen where they could talk in relative privacy. Dean gave a nod of understanding.

“Don’t eat too many, you don’t want to get sick again.” Dean told the boy before following Annabelle into the other room. Before they left Dean saw a large black cat come out of hiding to rub up against Sam’s legs, purring. Well, at least the boy wouldn’t be unsupervised. Annabelle’s familiar would keep an eye on him and hopefully keep him out of trouble.

Annabelle was already at the fridge taking out the milk when Dean walked into the kitchen. Even though he hadn’t made a noise she started speaking while she took out a glass and started pouring the milk into it.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into this time, Dean?” She asked, finally turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“The boy’s father was a hunter. I killed him. The boy might still have family left, but there’s a problem. There are demons after the boy. Two have found us already, rather easily in fact, so I think they’ve got the boy tagged somehow. I was hoping you’d know of a way to get the boy off their radar.” Dean explained. For a long time Annabelle said nothing, looking at him without expression, before she finally sighed and shook her head, probably in disbelief.

“You’ve gotten soft in your old age, vampire.” She said, and there was a hint of steel in her voice. Once they had been rather close, but they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Dean knew he should probably be thankful she wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, at least not longer than a few decades. But she was smart enough to know he wouldn’t have come back unless the situation was dire.

“Can you help?” He asked.

“Perhaps. I will have to perform a spell, to see if I can find out how they are tracking the boy. I may not be able to remove it entirely, but I may be able to mask it enough they can no longer pinpoint him. Depending on how strong their tracking method is, it may not last forever.” She told him and Dean nodded. It would have to be enough. 

* * *

Sam was delighted. Cookies and a kitty. That, right there, was all a little boy could want. That and toys. And Happy Meals. And Piratey. And a basketball.

Sam got down to his knees, hands in the fluffy black kitty's fur. He petted her head, poked at her belly, pulled at her legs and counted her toes. What was awesome was that the kitty didn't seem to mind. She let him play, purring at him from time to time and when Sam got too annoying, she jerked her leg away from Sam's grip until Sam got the idea.

Dean and the nice lady were talking in the kitchen. Sam couldn't hear their words, but the voices were muffled and just _there_. After a little while of playing with the kitty, Sam got up and went to the plate of cookies on the table. He dusted the cat-hair off his hands before picking one cookie up and nibbling at it, surprised by just how buttery and chewy and sweet the cookie was. The chocolate chips were slightly more bitter than the usual affair, but Sam enjoyed it even more than he would have thought. By the time the nice lady brought him his milk, Sam had already downed two large cookies.

"Thank you," Sam said politely, picking up the glass of milk and washing down the cookies. He emptied half the glass in one go, not realizing he was thirsty until he was drinking it. He put the glass down gently on the table, not wanting to spill any milk, before he looked up at the nice lady. "Are you Dean's mommy?" Sam asked, milk mustache on his upper lip, picking up another cookie and biting into it.

* * *

Annabelle laughed softly at Sam’s question.

“No, sweetie, we’re just old friends. In fact…” The old woman looked to Dean for a moment as though to confirm that Sam did indeed already know the vampire’s true nature. Dean nodded grinning a little himself in amusement at Sam’s question. “Dean is much older than I am.” She finished.

The cat jumped up onto the table and began sniffing at the glass of milk that Sam had set aside. Almost going so far as to stick her head into the glass before Annabelle scolded her softly.

“Now, don’t be rude Isis.” The woman told the cat and the cat laid down on the table instead, flicking its tail.

Dean parted the curtains and looked out the window he was standing beside. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but then again nothing had looked out of the ordinary in the restaurant he’d stopped at either. Not until the demon sat down right with them for a chat. Dean had a feeling the next time the demons caught up with them a chat would be the last thing on their minds.

“Don’t worry, this place is well protected.” Annabelle reassured before she disappeared back into the kitchen. Dean heard another door open then the old woman descending some stairs into the basement. The vampire let the curtain fall closed and moved to sit in an armchair next to the table where Sam was polishing off the cookies. He wondered how many the boy had already eaten.

When Annabelle returned she was carrying a highly polished black wooden box with silver engravings on it. She set it down on the coffee table beside the plate of cookies, and then knelt down beside Sam. She opened the box and inside Dean could see some vials, pouches of herbs, a pair of raven feet, and other various spell components. Also inside was a small silver dagger which she picked up.

“Honey, Dean’s told me there have been some bad people looking for you. He’s asked me to find a way to make sure they can’t find you anymore, but to do that I’ll need a little bit of your blood. I just need to prick your finger and take a few drops, it won’t hurt, and I have some cute Snoopy Band-Aids you can wear after. Is that ok?” She asked, holding out her hand to the boy. 

* * *

Sam nodded around a mouthful of cookie, holding out his hand to the nice lady while with his other, he reached out to pet the cat, Isis, the nice lady had said her name was. It was a pretty name...

Sam kept his eyes averted from where the lady was holding the blade, but even though she had said it won't hurt he was a little nervous still. But all Sam felt was a small nick, like getting pricked by a very thin needle, and then the lady was putting on a bandaid and telling him he was all done. Sam looked down at his finger now wrapped in a bandaid with a cartoon dog on it. He looked up at her and gave her a wide grin, letting her know that way that it hadn't hurt.

After the nice lady was done, Sam finished off his milk and sat there, looking up at Dean until Dean caught his eye. Then, grinning, Sam leaned to the side, lowering himself until he was hidden by the coffee table. He lifted up, just enough that he could see Dean, and when he saw Dean looking, he giggled out a laugh before dropping down again and, rather unstealthily, crawled around and behind a nearby couch. Once hidden by the couch, he leaned out again, seeing if Dean was looking.

His antics drew the attention of the cat who, up until that point had been snoozing lazily on the table, jumped up and followed Sam behind the couch, rubbing against him and purring loudly. "Shhh, kitty," Sam said quietly, thrilled by his little hiding game. "I'm hiding." And then he stood up slowly, looking over the back of the couch to see if Dean was still looking at him.

* * *

As Dean watched how Annabelle handled Sam he had to admit she was good, much better than Dean himself was when dealing with the child. The boy let her take the blood she would need for the spell without so much as a whimper. Just a few drops as she’d promised falling into a clean vial which she then set aside. After returning the knife to the box she then placed the band-aid on Sam’s finger and the boy smiled at her. She was definitely good, but then again, she always had been. Despite the reputation most witches had she’d always been rather kind and patient, she’d put up with _him_ for almost ten years after all. Though that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a mean bitch too when the situation called for it.

When Annabelle had been young she had been quite beautiful. Long black hair, blue eyes, pale flawless skin, and built like a brick shithouse. The first time they met, Dean had been planning on making her a meal. Dean had been living in the area, the neighborhood hadn’t always been this nice, and it had been one of his hunting grounds. Little did he know the beautiful petite woman he’d seen walking alone that night was a powerful witch and she’d given him third degree burns with a well placed fire spell when he’d tried to attack her. Dean had barely escaped to lick his wounds; it had been one of his more embarrassing close calls.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting the woman to show up quite literally on his doorstep the very next night. His wounds hadn’t been healing as fast as they should have and she explained it was a side effect of her spell and she brought him a salve to take care of it. Stunned didn’t even begin to cover Dean’s reaction but he took the offered help anyway, more for the reason his wounds would apparently only going to get worse without it. A rather rocky start to their friendship but against all odds they had become friends, and eventually lovers.

Dean had stayed for a long time, much longer than he normally did in one area, but eventually he did leave. Of course she tried to get him to stay, and he’d even been tempted to stay longer, but he knew he was risking detection by hunters if he remained any longer. She had even offered to leave with him, but he’d refused. He’d already watched her age from twenty three to thirty three and she would only continue to grow older while he remained exactly the same year after year, decade after decade. As angry as she’d been with him for leaving he knew he’d done her a favor. She deserved to find a man she could grow old with, and she had.

He’d checked up on her from time to time and knew when she’d gotten married, had two kids now grown of course, and even grand children. Unfortunately her husband had died a couple of years ago. Dean had never known whether or not she’d forgiven him until one day out of the blue an envelope had shown up on his doorstep, much like she had all those years ago. The note had only two words in her distinct handwriting.

_Thank you._

Dean was drawn out of his thoughts by Sam’s antics, not really sure what the boy was up to when he suddenly ducked under the table and then looked at him giggling. He raised an eyebrow at the boy, watching as Sam then went to ‘hide’ behind the couch next, the cat of following and blowing Sam’s ‘cover’. He wondered if he was supposed to do anything.

Annabelle chuckled a little at the vampire’s slightly clueless expression and gathered up her things.

“You boys stay out of trouble now. I should have this ready in a few hours.” She said before she stood and left the room and Dean heard her return to the basement. 

* * *

Sam continued to play, even though Dean remained motionless. He popped up every now and then from different spots behind the couch, catching Dean's eye and dropping back down again. After a while, he got bored with his one-sided play and picked up the cat, wrapping his arms around the cat's chest and holding it up with the cat's 'arms' sticking out in the front awkwardly. Then, to walk, Sam pretty much had to waddle because the cat, in her stretched state, was almost as long as Sam was tall.

He dragged the cat nearly halfway across the room before Isis screeched and Sam had to let her go. She trotted away quickly, tail held straight up. Now disappointed that his other playmate had run off too, Sam returned to Dean's side.

"She's nice," Sam informed Dean wisely as he climbed up on the arm of the armchair Dean was sitting on. "I like her. Do you live here, Dean?" Sam asked, putting his feet on Dean's thighs as he faced Dean more. "Where do you live? Are we going there?" Sam asked, a little hyper from the sugar now, and the feeling of a fairly full stomach. Also, he liked it here. It strangely reminded him of home, even though he didn't actually know what that really meant. It was sort of like that one house Daddy had rented once for a really long time, but nicer.

* * *

Dean continued to watch the boy, still not sure what exactly Sam was doing but finding it amusing nonetheless. Eventually though Sam seemed to tire of whatever he was doing and stopped, turning his attention on Annabelle’s cat instead. Even though the way Sam was playing with the animal didn’t look the least bit comfortable Dean wasn’t worried, he knew the cat wouldn’t hurt the boy. Isis put up with it a lot longer than Dean would have thought. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly when the cat finally lost her patience and wrestled away from the boy.

Nice, huh? The vampire couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was referring to the cat or Annabelle, but he supposed both were true so Dean merely nodded.

“I used to live here a long time ago, but I don’t anymore.” Dean told the boy. “Right now I don’t live anywhere. I was getting ready to move not long before we met. Once we make sure those bad people can’t find you anymore, we’ll find a place to live. Maybe someplace like this.”

Leaning back in the chair a little Dean yawned. He was tired. He hadn’t been getting much sleep while taking care of Sam while the boy had been sick and now with the whole demon problem he’d been getting even less. It had been… what… two days now since he’d slept? Maybe three?

Unfortunately now wasn’t really time for a nap even as much as he’d like to have one.

“Would you like to live someplace like this?” Dean asked the boy. 

* * *

As Dean pretty much told him that Sam was with him for the long haul, even going as far as to ask him if he would like to live in a house like this... Sam's face split into a wide grin, wonder and excitement making his eyes sparkle.

"Really?!" Sam asked, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. "A house like this? So pretty..." He nodded at Dean, imagining a house just like this one. He imagined having his own room, with one of those race car beds and an actual closet where he could keep his clothes. And he'll always keep his room clean and take care of his things and make sure Dean never regretted giving him his own room.

"It would be so nice to live in a house like this one..." Sam said softly, watching as Isis prowled back into the living room, meowing at Sam once before settling down near Dean's feet, purring deeply.

Sam dreamed about the house for a few more minutes before he noticed that Dean looked pretty tired. He was getting dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked pale... well, paler than usual.

"Dean needs to sleep," Sam said, reaching out to put his hands over Dean's eyes, forcing him to close them. "You can sleep. I'll protect you," Sam said with a grin, taking his hands back and crossing them over his chest, puffing out his chest and pushing his chin down to imitate being 'macho'. "Me and Isis will protect you!" Sam jumped off the armchair and grabbed the cat, who came to Sam with the minimum of fuss, focusing her energy instead in stretching lazily and extracting as many scratches from Sam as she could.

* * *

Dean couldn’t deny he was surprised by the boy’s reactions, how… happy… Sam seemed at the idea of living with him. The vampire had been fully prepared for some kind of protest from the boy, even demands that Dean take Sam back to his ‘Uncle Bobby’, and then he would have to somehow explain to the boy why that wasn’t a good idea. How the demons would then know exactly where Sam was and just how dangerous that was, something he wasn’t sure the boy was capable of understanding even if he was a hunter’s son.

Instead Sam seemed genuinely excited about the prospect of living in a house like this… well, maybe not exactly like this, considering this house had a distinct ‘old lady’ feel to it. Annabelle would probably smack him if she heard that.

Well, Dean should probably count his blessings that Sam was happy instead of throwing a fit right now. While Dean had no illusions that it would be easy, taking care of Sam, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad either.

“Oh, you will, huh?” Dean chuckled softly when Sam told him to sleep and that he would protect _him_. He was still smiling when the boy removed his hands. Well, he was tired, and it would probably be a little while before Annabelle was done with her spell.

“All right then.” He said, making himself comfortable in the chair. “Don’t leave the house.”

* * *

Sam watched as Dean fell asleep almost instantly, sitting up still but body sagging just a little. Sam looked at Isis and put a finger to his lips, whispering, "Shhhh," to let her know that they had to be very, very quiet. Isis answered by tilting her head and then licking her paw.

Grabbing another cookie from the quickly emptying plate, Sam wandered off into the hallway to explore. He stared at all the knick-knacks adorning the shelves, his fingers itching to touch but he knew he didn't have permission. Most of the time Isis followed him around, and Sam often got distracted with petting the cat and playing with her before something shiny caught his eye.

It was during his exploration that he ended up in the kitchen and then saw the big glass doors leading to the backyard that was blooming with flowers and trees and... chillies? Sam's eyes widened and he started bouncing a little, wanting to go out.

He looked left and then right and then left again and noticed that no one was here. He didn't have permission to go into the backyard, and Dean had said not to leave the house... but this wasn't leaving the house, right? He was just in the really awesome backyard. Sam stuck his tongue out a little as he contemplated.

Should he or shouldn't he?

He reached up to the door handle, fiddling with it and realized it was the sliding type. One big push and the door slid open. Sam looked this way and that again before he noticed that Isis was watching him. He shushed her again before stepping out into the garden. It was so pretty out, and the trees were swaying and the flowers smelled amazing and there were actual chillies on plants here. The red really hot kind. Sam looked but he didn't touch and he explored the little place in the back.

Isis followed him out, watching him and making sure Sam didn’t do anything stupid. Sam stayed on the small stone path curving through the plants that were alternately bearing fruit or flowers.

He wondered again about how Dean had said they would live in a house. It was strange. Dad had never said that they’ll live in a house. He had always talked about killing the demon who had killed Mommy, and Dad had always promised to train Sam and make him a hunter. A house? It was something Sam had always wanted. And a Mommy. A house like this? Dean was a monster, even if he was a good monster, and Daddy hunted monsters… and Dean wanted Sam and him to live in the same place… a _house_ … together…

Something about that twisted in Sam’s mind, made him uncomfortable even if it made him long for it. Something about it wasn’t right, but Sam didn’t understand it yet even if he thought about it.

After a little bit, Sam shrugged and let himself enjoy the small garden instead of thinking too hard. He remembered how Daddy sometimes said that things will make more sense when Sam became a grown-up. Sam was plenty grown now, but maybe it’ll take him a few more weeks, or even months, to understand how grown-ups worked.

Right now he had a kitty to play with.

* * *

When Annabelle returned upstairs it was to find the vampire fast asleep in one of her armchairs, and the boy under his charge playing outside in the back yard. She had the distinct feeling that Dean had no idea Sam was out there and despite the grim situation the old witch couldn’t help but smile. That little one was going to keep Dean on his toes that much was for certain.

She approached the sleeping vampire and laid a gentle hand on his arm. Dean came awake instantly, blinking the sleep from his eyes and yawning a little. Almost before he was fully awake his eyes started to search the room.

“He’s outside.” Annabelle supplied helpfully and the vampire immediately tensed and started to rise. However her hand on him held a surprising amount of strength for an old woman and kept him from doing so as her words reassured. “It’s all right. The garden is as well protected as this house, he is in no danger. Isis is watching after him.”

Almost reluctantly the vampire seemed to relax though his face showed he was far from pleased.

Indeed he wasn’t pleased, not in the least. He’d _told_ Sam not to leave the house. What was so difficult to understand about that? Couldn’t that boy do anything that Dean told him to?

When he looked up at Annabelle again however he could see how serious her expression was.

“Have you found something? Do you know how the demons are tracking him?” Dean asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. She nodded and sat down slowly on the couch next to the chair where the vampire sat.

“I’m afraid it is rather troubling, Dean. I am not even sure how…” She paused and shook her head. It was all Dean could do to hold his tongue and wait for her to continue. She never had tolerated his impatience.

“The child has the blood of a demon within him, a very old and powerful demon. I am not sure how this came to be but that is how the demons are finding him. He is a part of them.” Annabelle finally told him and the way the vampire’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped open as though trying to catch flies would have been comical if the matter were not so serious. It was not often that Dean was left speechless. For a long time the vampire didn’t speak but he eventually found his voice.

“Can anything… be done?” He asked, his eyes darting towards the glass screen door through the kitchen where he could barely make out Sam playing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Annabelle couldn’t deny she was surprised by the question. Dean was nothing if not practical and surely the vampire knew how dangerous this situation was. How dangerous Sam was. Self preservation had always been Dean’s primary driving factor. Given this new information surely he knew the demons would never stop searching for the boy, and Dean was putting himself right in the crosshairs trying to keep Sam away from him. Her best advice to Dean would have been to simply give the boy to the demons and forget about him. However somehow she knew that advice would not be accepted well.

Dean had changed… that much was obvious. Only time would tell if it was for the better or for the worst.

“I cannot remove the taint from him. He will carry it for all of his life. However there may be a way. I know of a powerful magic that has been used before to protect its bearer from the eyes of evil. The bearer must be… branded with the spell. I do not even know if it will successfully hide the boy, but I can think of nothing else that might work.” She finally said and saw the vampire wince a little when she said the word ‘branded’. Dean did not ask if there was any other way because he knew if there was she would have told him.

“How long will it take?” He asked and she sighed softly.

“I will need till tomorrow to prepare the spell.” She replied and stood up. Dean said nothing more, merely nodding, and she left the room. Dean heard the basement door once more open and close but he didn’t move for a long time. 

* * *

Sam played several games of 'annoy the cat' and 'grab the cat and let go'. He played until he was exhausted and then he amused himself by staring at the several different varieties of flowers growing there. By the time it started getting darker, Sam decided he was hungry and he grabbed the cat, holding Isis up just by wrapping his arms under her forelegs and then letting the rest of her body just trail after. He wobbled into the house, dropped the kitty and then carefully closed the sliding glass door. It was then that he noticed Dean was awake.

"Dean!" Sam called, bouncing over to him. "Aunt Annie has such a nice garden, Dean," Sam explained as he wiped his dirt and fur covered hands off on his jeans before reaching for the cookies again. He was famished. "It has flowers and trees and chillies and veggies everywhere! And it smells so nice!"

Sam had just managed to get his hands on a cookie when he noticed that Dean looked rather troubled. "Is something wrong?" Sam asked, dropping the sugary treat and instead shuffling over to Dean, looking up at him with curious eyes. "Are you okay? Did you sleep well? Did I wake you up?"

 

 

*

 

The suburban neighborhood was quiet, specially at night and that was perfect for her. Alyssa, now housed in the body of a twenty-something receptionist from a local salon, walked up to the edge of the street where the boy and the vampire had seemed to disappear. They were hear somewhere... somewhere warded and she couldn't sense them anymore.

Boss was going to have her head.

She grabbed a passing pedestrian, silencing his scream before it started by slicing his throat in one smooth movement. She dragged him into the bushes and drained his blood in the ornate metal cup she had been given. Nerves shook her insides as she spoke the spell, waiting for Azazel's response. He really was going to have her head.

"Is there a problem?" Came his voice, smooth and silky but she could sense the threat underneath.

"I was trailing the vamp and the boy," Alyssa said, keeping her voice steady. "But they disappeared when they rounded this corner. This entire neighborhood is warded."

"You lost them?" Azazel asked, just the tiniest hint of disapproval entering his tone. "I suppose the fault lies with me, I should have sent someone more experienced than just a fledgling."

Alyssa bristled at the subtle reprimand. "I can do this! I know I can!"

"Make sure you do," Azazel said, his voice echoing in the darkness. "Or I'll have to send my elder daughter to get this done, and she has a tendency to get things rather... bloody. I'd rather not have her out of her chains yet."

"I'll do my best," Alyssa promised, already planning on standing sentry here for as long as necessary. The vamp would have to leave the warded zone sooner or later.

"Do better than that or I have no use for you," Azazel said. "Also, mark the street. We must take care of whoever is sheltering the boy. The message must be clear, yes?"

Alyssa smiled before she spoke the incantation that broke the link. Once she had hidden the body, she found a nice spot on the road in her car where she could watch the entire street. They would have to leave eventually, and when they did Alyssa will be there.

* * *

Dean was still lost in thought when he heard the back sliding door open and close so he didn’t immediately look up. He couldn’t help going over and over in his mind how he had come to this point.

How had one little mistake, somehow catching the attention of the hunter John Winchester after years of avoiding any entanglements with hunters, had snowballed so out of proportion? Being forced to kill the hunter. Kidnapping the recently orphaned boy. Rescuing the boy from a rabid wolf after he’d escaped. Losing the boy at a fucking McDonalds of all things, leaving him, and Sam returning to him. Taking care of the ill child while at the same time trying to avoid the demons that had come after Sam. Now learning that the boy was actually part demon…

When Dean looked back on it all he almost couldn’t believe all of it had actually happened, and he had been the one to live through it. It just seemed too fantastical. Too unbelievable. All his life Dean had only ever looked after himself, even when he was human. It was survival of the fittest. He took care of his own problems and avoided entanglements with most humans, hunters, and supernatural beasts alike. The rest of the world could go to hell in a hand basket for all he cared. He had cared nothing for it…

Now as if the universe was playing a colossal practical joke on him he was entangled in everything he’d avoided all his life. Sam was a living example of everything Dean had never wanted to deal with. Everything Dean had never cared about… and yet… The idea of simply walking away, giving the boy over to the demons that were looking for him…

That was what would be easiest for him. That was what he should do. That was what he would have done mere weeks ago.

As Dean looked up into Sam’s almost worried eyes, worried for _him_ , when the boy asked him if something was wrong he knew he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t simply give Sam up. Dean didn’t really give a damn whatever demon he pissed off in doing so. The vampire had walked into this situation with his eyes wide open and he didn’t really regret it.

“Come here.” Dean said softly, pulling the boy into his lap. Answering the child’s easy questions first before he had to answer the hard one. “I’m fine. Yeah, I slept fine. No, you didn’t wake me up.”

Dean was silent then for a long time as he tried to figure out a way to explain to the boy what was going on in a way that wouldn’t completely freak him out. The vampire wasn’t sure if it was even possible.

“Annabelle found out how those bad people kept finding us. The demons. She might have a way to stop them from finding you but…” Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It might hurt Sam. It might hurt a lot, but there’s no other way. If we don’t do it the demons will keep finding us and eventually they’ll take you away, and I’m afraid what they will do to you.”

“But once this is over, we can go anywhere you want. We can live anywhere and they’ll never bother us again.” Dean added and wished the words didn’t sound like such a lie. They were more like a half truth. Chances were they’d have little trouble from the demons if they managed to successfully hide Sam’s blood from them, but that didn’t guarantee it either. At least not forever. 

* * *

Sam let Dean pick him up and pull him to his lap. Once on top of Dean's thighs, Sam shifted so he was sitting with his back against one armrest and his legs stretched out over Dean's legs and on top of the armrest on the other side.

"It'll hurt?" Sam asked, quiet. Sam had been hurt before, badly too. He had once fallen from a tree despite Daddy's warnings on not climbing it and he had broken his arm. That had hurt a lot. Or that time he had played with Daddy's crossbow and shot an arrow into his thigh by accident... that had been really, really painful.

Can't hurt more than that, right?

"It's okay," Sam shrugged then, "I'm a big boy. I can handle it!" He said, smiling a little at Dean. Sam reached up and poked the corner of Dean's mouth. "Now don't be sad. I'm sure it won't hurt too bad," Sam said with a grin. "In my class there was this girl Sally, and she tried to kiss me but when I pushed her she bit me and it really hurt! But I didn't cry because I'm a big boy and big boys don't cry and so I pushed her again instead," Sam giggled a little. "I made _her_ cry," Sam informed proudly before some shame crept into his eyes. "Daddy was so mad. He said I shouldn't hit girls even if they piss me off... unless they're possessed and try to eat me."

Speaking of eating...

Sam's stomach rumbled and he bounced a little where he was sitting. "Deaann I'm hungry! Happy meal?" He asked, eyes wide and watery and lower lip pushed out in his most perfect imitation of a begging puppy.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help be impressed how well Sam was taking the news. Sure a lot of that probably had to do with the vampire not telling him everything, like exactly how much it would probably hurt, but the child was brave none the less.

Then the vampire’s lips twitched in spite of himself when Sam poked at his mouth, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the boy’s story and nod in agreement.

“No, you shouldn’t hit girls.” He said. Though even as he said the words Dean couldn’t help but recall all the women he’d killed over the years. Women were often easier to hunt than men. A little flirting and a few drinks were often all it took to get his prey to agree to follow him anywhere, and then the vampire could feed in peace.

Of course that was different. Killing someone quick and clean was arguably worse than going around and beating up and raping women, but they were talking about Sam not him, and Dean didn’t want Sam going around treating women poorly. Not that he actually thought the boy would start doing such things when he got older, but it reminded Dean how important it was to make sure Sam didn’t see him doing certain things. Like catching him feeding or… or tearing the throats out of possessed women.

The sound of Sam’s stomach grumbling brought Dean out of his thoughts with a laugh. The watery pout the boy started giving him as he begged for a happy meal reminded Dean just what a push over he was becoming. Especially when he signed then nodded.

“All right. I’ll get you a happy meal. But you have to promise me to behave yourself and not bother Annabelle while I’m gone. And don’t go outside, it’s not safe.” Dean added a mild glare at the end of his last words as a reminder that he’d _told_ Sam not to do that before and he wasn’t happy that the boy had disobeyed him. Dean was prepared to let it go however as long as Sam didn’t do it again.

With that Dean helped Sam off of his lap and stood, stretching out the kinks in his body from sleeping sitting upright in the chair. As comfortable as it was it still wasn’t the best way to sleep. Dean grabbed his coat and his keys and headed for the door.

Before the door shut behind him however he stuck his head back in.

“And no more cookies. You’ve had enough for one day.” 

* * *

Sam grinned when he realized he was going to get his way. He nodded quickly when Dean told him to not bug Annabelle and to not go outside. As soon as Dean was out of the door, Sam went to the plate of cookies, hand reaching out to grab one when Dean stuck his head back in to tell him to stop. Sam pouted, but did as he was told... until he heard Dean leave with the car. Grinning, Sam grabbed a cookie anyway and stuffed it into his mouth whole... after which he realized his folly as chewing became a horrendously difficult task.

He looked down at Isis who seemed to look much more annoyed than any cat had any right to.

Sam took a moment to manage to chew and swallow down the cookie before turning to the cat. "Don't tell Dean I ate a cookie," Sam whispered to the cat, conspiratorially, before ambling off to find something fun to play with.

 

*

 

Alyssa was admiring the shiny pointy shoes of the receptionist she was wearing when suddenly the car with the vampire appeared... seemingly out of nowhere. Her eyes widened because this was it. This was how she could find where the kid was.

Attacking a vampire was no easy task... capturing one was even harder and then retaining them? Nearly impossible. With _this_ particular vampire, this was seeming to be Mission Impossible. Regardless, a demon's gotta do what a demon's gotta do.

She trailed after the shiny black Impala, glad that this was a car that was hard to lose. Soon enough, the vampire parked in the parking lot of a nearby McDonald's and Alyssa sent a quick message to her boss that Dean was here. As Dean went into the restaurant, Alyssa jogged up to the Impala to see if Sam was inside.

He wasn't.

Suddenly all she felt was anger. She had been subject to failure over and over again regarding the boy and the vampire, and she was at her wits end. Deciding that she was done playing nice, she pulled out a hex bag from her jacket and slipped it into the small compartment above the front wheel. This would help her track the vamp even when he was in a protected area, and moreover it'll allow her to track the boy.

She had a plan now, and even though Boss had told her the boy wasn't to be hurt, she was sure Boss will forgive her when she will have retrieved the boy successfully.

After she was done, she left the parking lot, hiding in the shadows because now tracking the vampire won't be a problem at all.

* * *

One good thing about the boy’s apparent addiction to McDonalds Happy Meals was that it was never very hard to find one. Since there seemed to be one on every corner in any town no matter how small it may be. Dean didn’t even need to ask for directions, he just drove, and eventually found one after not too long.

Unfortunately it was in the middle of the dinner rush and the restaurant was packed, so Dean had to wait a little while in line. Dean hoped that Sam wasn’t getting into any mischief while he was away, but who was he kidding? He wouldn’t be surprised if the boy polished off the rest of the plate of cookies while he was gone.

The vampire sighed heavily, realizing he was going to have to start punishing the boy for disobeying him if he didn’t want Sam to completely walk over him for years to come. The fact that Sam had gone outside even though Dean had told him not to wasn’t just disobeying him, it was putting himself in danger, and Dean couldn’t allow that. He was going to have to have a long talk with Sam when he got back to Annabelle’s, Dean decided as he paid for the Happy Meal and headed back out to the car.

The second he stepped outside the vampire immediately knew something was wrong however. Maybe he had finally learned his lesson and stopped walking around with his head in his ass, because the scent of sulfur was faint but obvious when he neared the car. He was actually kind of pissed at himself that he hadn’t smelled the demon much sooner but he could probably blame that on the crowd of humans and the overwhelming stench of fast food inside the restaurant. As he sniffed he realized he recognized the scent too. He didn’t recognize the scent of the meat suit the demon was now wearing, but he recognized her true scent. The demon wasn’t here anymore, but she had been here.

Fucking bitch.

His first instinct was to rush back to Annabelle’s to make sure she and Sam were all right, but Annabelle could take care of herself. Plus Dean wasn’t stupid the demon wouldn’t have followed _him_ if she knew where Sam was. She was probably counting on him leading her back to the boy.

Dean sniffed around the car suspiciously and it wasn’t long before he found it. He’d lived with a witch for long enough to know the smell of certain spell components and found the hex bag easily. The vampire eyed it with disgust and was about to throw it away in a trash bin when he got a better idea and tossed the hex bag in the back of a pickup truck as it was pulling out of the space next to him. Dean didn’t envy the human when the demon caught up with the truck and realized her little trick hadn’t worked, but that wasn’t his problem.

The vampire got into the Impala and headed back to Annabelle’s, keeping a close eye in the rear view mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. 

* * *

Sam giggled loudly as he ran after the cat, playing a strange twisted game of tag that the cat seemed absolutely not interested in. As Dean had said, Sam stayed out of Annabelle's way, He ate about three more cookies before realizing that there was only one left. Dean would probably definitely notice that Sam had eaten more cookies. So he put that one cookie in the middle of the plate and decided to blame the cat.

He continued running after Isis who was starting to look more and more haggard until he heard the Impala's distinct rumble. Sam jumped happily, forgetting about the cat before plastering himself against the front door, desperate for his Happy Meal.

Sam stepped away from the door only long enough for Dean to open it before he pretty much jumped Dean, wanting his burger and fries.

"Dean! Hungry!" Sam said, reduced to one word phrases when faced with the delicious greasy treat. He reached up with both hands, fingers opening and closing in a grabbing motion, wanting his food now. "Gimme!"

 

 

*

 

 

Alyssa frowned as she watched the swinging talisman tracked the hex bag moving out of the town and heading towards the highway. Surely, the vampire hadn't dropped the boy off and left?

Then again, what if he had?

Alyssa licked her lips, wondering if she should consult Azazel or try to handle this herself. If she called up Azazel, he'll definitely cut her up into bits before letting her leave the mutilated meatsuit... or she could do damage control herself...

The second option sounded much better.

She reached into her purse, pulling out the small, clear plastic bag with a few strands of thin brown hair in them. Azazel had been sneaky... managing to snag a few hairs off of the boy when he had him next to him. He was clearly a master at this.

Maybe it was time for Alyssa to make sure the vampire brings the boy to her instead of Alyssa having to trail after him.

The spell will take time though... strong as it was. But once it worked, she'll quickly climb the ladder to being Azazel's right hand. Alyssa smiled as she pulled out a strand. It was soft and delicate under her fingertips. She knew she was running out of time. Something told her the boy would slip away from her soon, and she had to put a stop to it. Whoever was sheltering the boy... they were now Alyssa's biggest obstacle.

* * *

He wasn’t followed. Taking several back ways that looped back on themselves before heading to Annabelle’s home proved that much. The vampire was still relieved when he returned and parked the car that he smelled no trace of sulfur. He was even more relieved as he was practically pounced upon as soon as he entered the house by a hungry six year old boy. Apparently nothing had happened while he had been gone, Annabelle’s protections held firm.

Relieved as he was Dean couldn’t help but laugh as he raised the Happy Meal above his head, far away from the greedy grabbing hands. Teasing Sam for only a moment before he leaned down to pick up the boy anyway, handing over the fast food while he walked into the kitchen and sat the boy down at the table with his food.

He hadn’t failed to notice that the plate of cookies in the living room had been nearly empty when he’d passed. He’d expected as much.

“Didn’t I tell you not to have any more cookies?” Dean asked, his expression less amused now as he looked at Sam. It was probably his own fault for not properly feeding the boy until now, but Sam had still blatantly disobeyed him. That had to stop.

“Those were Annabelle’s cookies, and you ate them all. That’s rude, Sam. What if you get sick later on from eating so many? After you eat its straight to bed, no more playing, no arguing.” The vampire finally declared his ‘punishment’. Hopefully the guilt trip and early bed time would be enough for Sam to understand that Dean meant business when he told him something.

Besides, despite the short nap Dean had earlier he was still rather tired and was looking forward to the peace and quiet. 

* * *

Sam grabbed at his food the moment Dean put him down, but when Dean started scolding him for eating all the cookies, Sam's good mood plummeted. Sam knew he shouldn't have eaten all the cookies, but he had been hungry! And now Dean was ordering him to go to bed like... like Sam would actually listen to him!

"No," Sam said. One single word holding all the stubbornness he could muster. He glared at Dean before picking up his burger and taking a big bite. He chewed noisily, messily, intent on pissing Dean off now. How dare Dean tell Sam what to do? He wasn't the boss of him! Sam could do whatever he liked! After eating he'll go play with the kitty some more _just_ because Dean said not to. Even though he was tired and a bed sounded good, but now that Dean had _told_ him to do that, he wasn't going to. He was going to play, and he was going to argue.

And that was that.

Sam took another messy big bite and chewed with his mouth open, never losing eye contact with Dean.

* * *

No?

With just that one word Dean’s mood went from mildly irritated to pissed off and his expression turned from scolding to angry. In two strides he walked over to the boy and snatched the food right out of his hands, throwing it back into the flimsy cardboard box, and then tossing it all straight into the trash.

Maybe Dean was overreacting but right now he didn’t care. He was sick and tired of bending over backwards trying to be nice to Sam, and the minute he told the boy to do anything, or not do something, even if it was for his own good, Sam turned into a royal pain in his ass. Well, it was going to stop, right now.

“Fine. Then you can forget about eating and go to bed right the fuck now.” Dean all but growled, his eyes flashing red for a moment as a reminder of just who the fuck Sam was talking to. Why there was more than one reason Sam shouldn’t piss him off. He was more than capable of being nice, but the vampire was also very capable of being very mean. 

* * *

When Dean got angry, Sam was a little bit not surprised... but then he was. Dean's anger seemed almost too much and when he grabbed Sam's food and threw it into the trash, Sam's stomach gave a pitiful growl of hunger and his stubbornness turned to angry tears.

"You're not my DAD!" Sam yelled back. "I don't have to do ANYTHING you tell me to!"

Sam got off his chair and went to the trash, grabbing the box containing the sandwich. He was _so_ hungry and he had been getting by on cookies all day. He didn't care if the food was in the trash, he was going to eat it.

* * *

Of all the stupid, stubborn, pain in the ass…

Dean gave a warning growl when Sam got up from the table and boldly went over to the trash to dig out the damned happy meal. But his warning went unheeded so Dean took drastic measures. He grabbed the boy and hoisted the child under one arm like he weighed nothing at all, and slapped Sam’s hands hard. Hard enough to leave a mark and certainly hard enough to force the boy to let go of stupid box he’d fished out of the bin.

Then making sure the food ended up in the trash once more, Dean carried the boy out of the kitchen. Still holding the boy like a sack under his arm and ignoring any kicking and fighting Sam did until he finally reached the couch where the vampire finally dumped him.

Dean stood over the boy then, ready to catch the child and force him back to the cushions if he needed to. He glared at Sam hard as he spoke. He was done playing around.

“No. I’m not your damned father. Your father is dead! Maybe you forgot there are demons after you, and god only knows what they want to do to you. Believe me, you don’t want to find out and right now I’m the only thing standing in their way. You better think twice before you make me wonder just why the hell I’m putting my neck on the line for your sorry ass.”

Dean straightened and took a deep breath, trying to regain control over his temper.

“I’m not your father, but you are going to listen to me. You do what I say and we’ll get along fine. You don’t and you’ll find out just what a bastard I can be. Do you understand me, boy?”

* * *

Sam cried out when Dean slapped his hands hard... hard enough that his hands first went cold and then hot before the stinging pain set in. Sam started reaching for the food again, famished as he was, but then Dean grabbed him by the waist, holding him with one arm. Sam kicked and struggled but Dean was too strong until Dean dropped him on the couch.

Every word out of Dean's mouth was like another slap, and by the time Dean was done Sam was wondering why exactly he had started liking Dean to begin with.

"If you hate me so much, why don't you just give me to them?" Sam asked, jaw clenched and teeth bared in anger. He had tears running down his cheeks and his face was red with anger and frustration. "I didn't want that stupid sandwich anyway. Good that you threw it away. It tasted awful," Sam said stubbornly even if more tears rolled down his cheeks at the thought of the food he didn't get to eat. He was _so_ hungry... and Happy Meals were his favorite...

Sam lay down on the couch, turning away from Dean so that he was facing the back of the couch before he brought his hands up to cradle against his chest. They stung really bad. He wished Dean would leave already so that he could cry openly.

* * *

  


Dean’s eyes narrowed a little more at the boy’s petulant response. Figures. If Sam would just give in, agree to do as he said… what was so difficult about it? Dean wasn’t even asking for much. Don’t go outside, don’t eat those cookies, go to bed early… yet the boy was acting like Dean was asking him to perform medieval torture.

With a growl of frustration the vampire moved to sit in the chair he’d occupied for most of the afternoon. Considering if he took his eyes off the boy for a second Sam did whatever the hell he wanted he figured if he left the room the boy would go digging in the trash again. If Sam would just relent Dean probably would have too and gone to the kitchen to get the boy something else to eat. He wasn’t going to let the boy eat the thrown away food, but he might have at least dug out the toy for him to play with later on. But since Sam was determined to be stubborn, he could go hungry.

Dean did feel more than a little guilty for saying some of the things he’d said when he lost his temper. Such as when he implied he would hand Sam over to the demons if the boy didn’t behave himself. As much as Sam pissed him off sometimes he knew he wouldn’t… couldn’t… do that.

He cared too much about Sam now…

Dean really was a bastard sometimes.

“I never said I hated you, Sam. Do you think your father hated you when he punished you?” Dean finally asked, though it was mostly rhetorical. He refused to believe that Sam was some kind of darling little angel with his father and did everything the man said. Sam was too good at being a pain in the ass to not have had years of practice at it.

“I might not be your father, but I’m looking after you now. When I tell you to do something it’s for your own good, whether you like it or not.”

* * *

Sam's back tensed as Dean asked him about his father. Dad had punished him when Sam got to be too much, yes, but he hadn't ever threatened to hand him over to whatever baddie had been looking for them then nor had he ever raised a hand to Sam.

"Dad never hit me, or bit me, or let me go hungry," Sam said quietly, voice choked from his silent crying. He rolled over, sitting up before looking at Dean. "I ate the cookies because I was hungry. I went to the garden because I was bored. But I don't want any more cookies ever again, and I don't want to go to the garden either because it stinks. Am I sleeping on the couch?"

He wasn't going to give Dean an inch. Sam wasn't hungry anymore anyway. He didn't want any stupid cookies nor did he want to play with any stupid cats and the garden wasn't so pretty. And Dean wasn't nice. And this house was stupid and he didn't want to live with Dean in any place like this one. He hoped Dean was happy. He took away Sam's Happy Meal. Sam didn't like Dean much at all right now. Clearly, Dean hated him. Why else would he hit Sam or yell at him or bite him or not care if Sam's been hungry all day?

* * *

Dean’s expression hardened once more at Sam’s words. But he’d lost his temper once already tonight and he wasn’t going to let this snot nosed brat have the satisfaction again.

“Do whatever you want. That’s what you want to hear right?” The vampire finally hissed as he stood up and turned away from the child, crossing the living room to stare out the window instead. It was easier than staring at Sam’s tear streaked face.

Stupid child. Selfish brat. He was tired of debating with a god damned six year old, especially when it was obvious the boy wasn’t about to listen to any kind of reason.

“I’m sure you’ll be happy then when you get me killed because you refuse to listen to a word I say.” The vampire muttered under his breath, and he was just beginning to understand how true those words were.

Sam was going to be the death of him one of these days, probably sooner rather than later. If the god damned demons didn’t get him then Sam would probably eventually do it himself in revenge for what Dean had done to his father.

That… was a surprisingly easy concept to accept. Death. He’d never exactly been afraid of dying, though he’d always done whatever he could to avoid that fate. Survival was the only thing that had ever driven him before. Now…

Maybe he was trying to tell himself something. Maybe he had lived for long enough. 

* * *

Dean telling him that Sam's going to get him killed was the last straw. He was already miserable to begin with and he had hunger pangs to go along with that. Now he had guilt on top of it and Sam just didn't know what to do. He wasn't going to listen to everything Dean said, still, and he didn't want to promise something he wasn't going to uphold...

For the first time in a while, the idea of running away again began to take root. Dean hated him, that much was obvious, and the demons who were after Sam would eventually get to Dean and hurt him. There was only one person in this entire mess who could fix all this and it was Sam. If Sam disappeared, the demons would come after him and leave Dean alone and then Dean wouldn't hate him so much because he won't have to take care of him anymore.

Sam got off the couch and went to Dean, gingerly wrapping his arms around Dean's thigh and hugging his leg lightly. He didn't know if he'll get smacked for coming close right now so he stayed rigid and tense.

"I promise you won't get killed because of me," Sam whispered, swallowing down his tears. "I don't want you to die." Sam turned his head, pressing his face into Dean's jean covered thigh. He was sorry for being such a pain, and he definitely didn't want Dean to be hurt because of him even if Dean hit him sometimes and made Sam not like him at all.

* * *

Dean didn’t bother to turn away from the window when he heard Sam move off the couch. He figured now that the boy had his ‘permission’ he was going to return to the kitchen, either to fish the remainder of his meal out of the trash or raid Annabelle’s fridge. Dean honestly didn’t really care either way at this point. As long as Sam left the room so he wouldn’t have to smell the boy’s tears or listen to the repressed sobs that were making the vampire feel even more of a monster than he usually did. Even though it was Sam’s own god damned fault for provoking him.

Honestly, what did the boy expect? Sam did it deliberately. There was no doubt in his mind that the boy was ignorant of his actions. Not when every look and gesture just screamed defiance. Recalling that stubborn glare in Sam’s eyes when Dean had ‘dared’ to scold him threatened to make the vampire’s blood boil once more.

So, no, Sam was definitely aware that his actions would piss the vampire off to high heaven. He did it on purpose. Then had the nerve to act surprised when Dean actually _did_ lose his temper. Where was the logic in it?

It was obvious this wasn’t going to work, for either of them. What the hell had he been thinking? He wasn’t capable of taking care of a child. At least not this child. His pathetic attempts were only making things worse. God damn it, he wished he’d never seen Sam. He had been doing just fine for the last few hundred years living alone and not caring about anyone but himself.

He wished returning the boy to his uncle was an option, but it wasn’t. Not when that was exactly what the demon after Sam wanted. Despite how much Sam pissed him off again and again he didn’t want anything harmful to happen to the child. While Sam might be much better off in his uncle’s care whatever plans that bastard demon had for Sam would destroy the boy in the end. Dean had no doubt of that. That was all demons knew after all. Destruction. Chaos. Fear. Death.

Dean had been certain that Sam wouldn’t want anything to do with him right now so the vampire was more than a little surprised when he felt the small arms wrap around his leg. The vampire stubbornly refused to look away from the window, perhaps waiting for the boy to get tired of the ‘sweet and innocent’ act he was putting on right now. That lasted for all of a minute until he heard Sam’s soft words.

He looked down at the boy but Sam wasn’t looking at him. Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head.

“You should.” The vampire said softly. His fingers itching to unfold from across his chest and reach down to run through the boy’s soft hair and offer some form of comfort. Something he had no right in doing. “You will.”

Feeling eyes practically boring into the back of his skull Dean looked over his shoulder to see Isis sitting on the coffee table staring at him disapprovingly. He had a feeling Annabelle had been watching the entire scene through the eyes of her familiar and she was disappointed in him. Well get in line.

Dean met the cat’s glare for only a moment before looking away. 

* * *

Sam held on until Dean whispered those soft words, and it took Sam a moment to understand what he said. When he did, Sam's quietening sobs grew in intensity again.

"Nooooo," Sam whined, tightening his grip on Dean's leg and even wrapping his legs around Dean's calves. There was no way Dean was going to get Sam off him without a crowbar. "I won't let you die," Sam promised, resting his chin on Dean's leg so that he could look up at Dean. Fat tears rolled out of his eyes and his stomach growled in tandem, still demanding food but Sam had no desire to eat anymore. "I promise. I'll grow up and be strong and I'll protect you," Sam said.

Sam's lip quivered, more tears leaking out as he realized Dean probably will give him to the demons... and they were so scary! What would they do with him? What did they want with him?

What if they ate Sam?

"Please don't give me to the demons," Sam whispered, looking down again. "I'm sorry... I'll listen to everything you say..." Sam whispered, rubbing his face on Dean's jeans to wipe off his tears and snot. "I'm sorry," He apologized again.

* * *

Dean couldn’t deny he was a little surprised just how upset Sam was at the thought of him dying. Surely the child hadn’t forgotten that Dean was the one who’d killed his father. That alone was enough for the boy to hate him and want him dead. But by Sam’s own admission Dean was terrible at taking care of the child as well. Sam hated him, and for good reason. Dean was just a monster that hit and bit and let the boy go hungry.

So he simply didn’t understand how the child could act like he loathed his guts one moment and clung to him the next. He looked down at the boy hanging onto to his leg and crying in a bit of shock. When Sam promised him he wouldn’t let him die, that he’d ‘grow up’ and ‘protect’ him the vampire actually did a double take.

Then Sam was begging him not to give him to the demons and Dean finally understood what all this was about. Dean really was the biggest asshole in the entire world.

“Sam no…” He said, shaking his head as he reached down. It took three tries before he managed to pry the boy off his leg Sam was holding onto him so tightly. When he finally managed to get Sam to release his death grip on him, Dean hugged the boy to his chest gently, running his fingers through the child’s hair as he shushed him.

“I’m sorry Sam. I shouldn’t have said… I was angry and I’m an asshole. I would never give you to them, Sam. Never.” 

* * *

Sam held onto Dean's leg as tight as he could, even tighter when Dean seemed to try and pry him away. Eventually, Dean got Sam away and before Sam could thoroughly panic about being given away to demons, Dean was hugging him.

Sam let Dean comfort him, enjoying the gentle movement of Dean's hand on his hair. Hearing that the vampire wouldn't ever give him away calmed Sam's fears immensely, and dried his tears. He really had been terrified, and he had even considered running away to make sure Dean wouldn't be hurt and the demons wouldn't get him either. At least now he won't have to.

Sighing with relief, Sam sagged in Dean's arms, the drama and crying and the entire day just catching up with him.

"Thank you," Sam whispered softly, sniffling to try and clear his nasal passages. Sam lifted his head, looking at Dean then. "And I would've had to run away again and that's too much work and I don't want to run away. I'll just grow up and be strong and make sure no monsters hurt you!" Sam promised again, imagining himself as seven feet tall with big muscles and a strong jaw and he would be so strong he would be able to bend steel and then when demons came to hurt Dean he would flick his finger at them and make them die. Maybe he'll even be taller than Dean! That would be awesome. "I'm gonna be taller than you," Sam predicted. "Then you can just hide behind me and I'll kick everyone's asses!" He said with a watery grin, not even caring about the swear word, eyes and nose still red from the crying but his mood was improving quickly... as was his appetite.

* * *

For a time Dean wasn’t sure if Sam believed him. What if the boy didn’t? What if Sam no longer trusted him? It had been almost a miracle that Sam had ever trusted him in the first place especially since the child had every reason not to. But he needed Sam to trust him. Just for a little while longer. Long enough so he could ensure that Sam would be safe.

Finally Sam began to relax in his arms and as the boy did a knot of tension within Dean began to lessen as well. The vampire didn’t even wrinkle his nose in disgust when the boy sniffled wetly in his ear.

That tension returned when Sam mentioned running away again, and Dean forced down his anger with great difficulty. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the boy again. Sam said he had only been thinking about it after all and wasn’t going to do it. But Dean needed to make sure that Sam didn’t run from him again.

In spite of everything Dean couldn’t help the small huff of laughter that escaped him at Sam’s promises. Taller than him, huh? Well, they’d see about that. Maybe. If they both lived that long. Dean’s expression turned serious once more as he re-situated Sam in his arms so that he could look the boy right in the eye.

“Sam, if you listen to nothing else I say at least listen to me now. Don’t ever try to run away again, no matter what. No matter how mean or angry I might get, I would never hurt you like those demons could. Promise me that at least, all right?” Dean said, though the seriousness of the moment was almost broken by Sam’s rumbling stomach, and the vampire sighed. He’d let Sam think about it for a while before he answered.

“How about we find you something to eat?” He said as he carried Sam back into the kitchen and sat the boy down at the table. Dean decided to offer the child a compromise.

“I’ll make you something quick tonight, and if everything goes well tomorrow I’ll buy you two happy meals.” Dean offered as he went over to Annabelle’s cupboards and started going through them. He’d never had to cook for himself but honestly how hard could it be? He’d watched enough television to have some idea of what to do… he hoped.

Eventually during his searching he found a blue box with a picture on it that looked familiar, if only because the waitress at the restaurant had brought Sam some just the other day. Dean stood up and showed Sam the box of macaroni and cheese.

“How’s this?”

* * *

Alyssa headed to a nearby motel, smiling at the sweet couple that looked to be so in love walking towards their room. They had chosen a room slightly more removed from the rest of the motel, at the end of the line on the other side of the motel. This was probably to keep from disturbing others due to their no-doubt loud activities at night, but for Alyssa this also made sure that no one else would hear the screams.

It barely took fifteen minutes for her to knock on the door, kill the man that opened it and then walk in to snap the woman's neck. Easy peasy. Now she had a room to herself that was paid off at least till next morning. This was going to take time; she needed someplace quiet.

On the table there was a candlelit dinner ready, and she popped a piece of meat into her mouth while she set up her equipment. A hair was all she had of the boy, and it would have to be enough.

She smiled as she opened the book and found the perfect spell. "Mister hot shot vampire, huh? I'm going to enjoy watching you _bring_ the boy to me to get rid of this one..." She didn't want to really hurt the boy, Boss would kill her if she did so, but at the same time she wanted it to be terrifying enough that the vampire would bring the boy to her without delay. This spell? This was perfect. With a grin on her face, she got to work.

 

~

 

Sam nodded as Dean told him to not run away. He didn't plan on anyway, but he wasn't entirely convinced. Sam liked Dean. He was nice... when he wasn't yelling at Sam or hitting him. His hands _hurt_ and it made him want to pretend to run away just to piss Dean off... but then Dean was asking him if he wanted mac and cheese and all was forgiven.

Even more when Dean offered him _two_ happy meals.

Grinning widely, Sam bounced a little on the table at the sight of the blue box. Daddy had always had a little trouble making the meal. He either burned the cheese or the sauce was too liquid, but Sam had loved it anyway.

"Cheese!" Sam said excitedly, his earlier complaints about Dean forgotten. He watched carefully as Dean made the food, unable to wait for the deliciously cheesy macaroni to be put in front of him. He yawned widely, feeling his ears pop. He was getting sleepy. Right after food, he was going to go to bed and sleep. "I'm sleepy," Sam complained quietly as he stuck a finger into his nose to scrape out the sticky mucus that had collected there when he had been crying.

* * *

Sam’s smile and excited exclamation had a grin pulling at Dean’s lips in spite of himself. Well, guess he chose the correct meal. Now all he had to do was make it…

The vampire studied the box carefully. Boil water, add macaroni, drain, add cheese powder and milk… well, that sounded easy enough. There were even small pictures along with the written directions. Alright. He could do this.

It took only a couple minutes of searching to find the pots and pans. He might have been intimidated by the sheer number of shapes and sizes of pots available to use, but since he had the pictures on the macaroni box to go by he simply chose the one that most closely matched that. So far so good.

He filled the pot half way with water and put it on the stove. Hmm… there was no setting for ‘boiling’ and Dean scratched his head for a moment before looking over at Sam’s comment. He was sleepy? After all the shit Sam had just given him when Dean had told him to go to bed? The vampire raised an eyebrow at the boy but didn’t scold him.

“You can go to bed after you eat.” He replied, turning to study the stove once again. With a shrug he turned the knob to the highest setting.

As long as it took Dean was afraid he’d done something wrong already, but eventually the water did start to bubble. He opened the box and started to pour the macaroni into the water when he realized he forgot to take out the cheese packet first. It fell into the boiling water along with the macaroni before he could stop it and Dean cursed. He quickly tried to grab the packet out of the water before it sunk and cursed even louder when he burnt his fingers for his effort. 

* * *

Sam watched with a grin as Dean tried to cook. Even though Sam was only six, he could see how out of his element Dean was. Dean looked so confused, and then frustrated and then confused again before he burned his fingers by sticking his hand into boiling water to grab the packet of cheese. At that, Sam squealed with laughter because there was something really funny about a vampire who even demons hadn't been able to take down defeated by a packet of macaroni and cheese.

"You're worse than Daddy at this," Sam said, laughing still before he jumped down and went to Dean's side to look at the boiling macaroni. "If you put the cheese sauce in the milk before you put it in the macaroni, it doesn't clump," Sam informed Dean, remembering his Dad's fights with the clumps of cheese in the macaroni resulting in a mishmash of cheese and pasta. It had been a while before Dad had figured this little trick out and it had made their lives a lot easier.

As Sam watched Dean work, Isis came prowling into the kitchen, rubbing up against Sam's legs before sitting down next to him. Immediately distracted, Sam reached down and picked up the cat, holding her up to his chest and waddling to the kitchen table before putting her down on the chair so he could pet her properly.

There, he played with the cat while he waited for the food to be done, feeling the tiredness from the day catching up to him.

 

~

 

Alyssa smiled as she carefully put the single strand of hair into the dull green potion, watching it turn gold where the hair touched until the entire vial was a pale gold color. She closed the vial and put it into her pocket, planning on putting it someplace safe because if the vial broke, the spell would as well.

As she sipped from the champagne the now dead couple had chilling in a bucket, she wondered how Dean would react to having Sam go blind. She gave Dean no more than half a day before he tracked Alyssa down to bargain with her. This plan was perfect. There was no way she won't get Sam now.

* * *

Dean threw a glare at Sam when the boy started laughing at his misfortune though there was no real heat behind it. What a brat. The vampire responded by sticking his burned fingers into his mouth one by one and the pain faded quickly as they healed. He then focused his attention back on the boiling macaroni, double checking the instructions on the box to see how long the noodles had to cook.

He didn’t know what to say in response to the child’s observation that he was worse at this than his father so Dean remained silent. Merely making a small non committal sound at the boy’s suggestion of how to deal with the cheese packet. It didn’t say anything like that on the box, but Dean supposed he should take all the help he could get.

Dean glanced down at the cat rubbing around their ankles, its tail twitching in amusement, and the vampire sighed and rolled his eyes. No doubt Annabelle was getting quite a bit of amusement out of the whole situation. Apparently the witch wasn’t inclined to help him out either. Bitch. He watched as Sam tried to pick up the cat, but mostly ended up dragging it back to the table and the vampire shook his head.

Checking the clock it seemed like it was time to drain the macaroni now… but Dean had no idea how to do that. He tried pouring the water out into the sink but he started losing macaroni with it. Frustrated, Dean grabbed a spoon off the shelf and tried to push the macaroni back while he poured out the steaming water into the sink. It took a while and he lost more macaroni than he thought he should but at least he got most of the water out.

Finally Dean fetched the milk from the fridge and took Sam’s suggestion pouring the milk and cheese into a separate bowl first and mixing it before pouring it over the noodles. After Dean was done mixing the cheese mixture and noodles he was surprised that it actually looked like the picture on the box, and almost like what the waitress had brought Sam for dinner.

Pleased with himself Dean scooped out the macaroni and cheese into a bowl and brought it over to Sam who looked like he might fall asleep in his food rather than eat it. 

* * *

Sam scrambled up the chair as Dean prepared the food, and as soon as he was seated the right way, a bowl of steaming hot cheesy macaroni was in front of him. Sam's mouth watered, and he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he quickly grabbed the fork, focusing intently on neatly spearing three elbow macaroni pieces before blowing on them to cool them for a second. Then he stuck them in his mouth and decided it was the best macaroni ever.

"Yum!" Sam said out loud, grinning at Dean through cheesy pasta coated teeth before spearing more on his fork. He pretty much shoveled the food into his mouth as quickly as he could while spearing only three macaroni at a time. In about ten minutes, he had wiped the bowl clean, even licking some remnants of the cheese sauce. With the food heavy and warm in his stomach and his hunger pangs sated for the moment, Sam yawned widely and blinked sleepily. He was ready for bed now.

He laid his cheek on the table, lethargically reaching out and swiping his finger through the small bit of cheese sauce left in the bowl and sticking it in his mouth in the slowest movement possible. He blinked slowly once, twice, and then dozed off without even realizing it, quickly finding himself in dreamland where there was a giant marshmallow mountain and Sam had no twig to spear it on. It was a bad dream.

* * *

Dean returned the boy’s grin in spite of himself when the food apparently met with Sam’s approval. It was almost worth getting his fingers burned as he watched the boy dig into the pasta with enthusiasm. Even if the sight of Sam’s cheese coated smile wasn’t all that appealing. Perhaps it was past time he got the boy a toothbrush…

Sam quickly polished off the entire bowl of macaroni, practically licking the bowl clean, and as Dean suspected the boy started to slouch in his seat almost immediately afterward. Dean chuckled warmly as the boy fell asleep before he could even gather up the used dishes and toss them in the sink.

Well since Annabelle had let him suffer she could handle the dirty dishes.

Very carefully Dean gathered up Sam into his arms doing his best not to wake up the child, he’d had enough of Sam being cranky and difficult for one night. Dean carried the sleeping child upstairs and found a bedroom that he guessed used to belong to one of Annabelle’s children. There he settled Sam carefully into the bed and tucked the blankets around him.

He watched Sam sleeping peacefully for another few moments before he turned and left the room. The vampire returned to the living room, taking up residence on the couch and stretching out, deciding to take the opportunity to catch up on his own sleep while he could.


	5. Chapter 5

As Sam slept, the gold potion glowed. Bright hazel eyes slowly dulled as a thin layer of a cloudy substance covered his eyes, turning his pupil from black to a dull gray. Sam didn't even feel it happen. He just slept away, dreaming of things that a six year old dreamed of.  


  
Sam woke up in the middle of the night, his bladder heavy. Grumbling, Sam struggled out of the bed in the pitch black, unsure of where he was and what the direction was to the bathroom. Feeling his way around the furniture, he managed to get to the door without banging against too many things. He pondered for a moment if he should call Dean, but then decided not to. Sam was a big boy. He could go to the bathroom by himself.

Once outside the door, Sam felt his way around the walls, a little unnerved by just how dark it was. He couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. The darkness was suffocating, pressing in on him from all around. It was alright though, once Sam got to the bathroom he'll switch on a light and it'll be fine.

As he shuffled along next to the wall with both hands pressed to it, he felt something warm and furry bump against his leg.

"Kitty!" Sam called, abandoning his quest for the bathroom to reach down and pet the cat. He felt around before he found the cat and then he gave her a good rub before standing back up. "Can you see? It's really dark. I wish I had kitty eyes," Sam mumbled as he returned to looking for the bathroom.

It took only a moment and then everything went wrong. He bumped against the edge of something. Sam didn't know what. Something wobbled, sounding almost metallic, and then it was hitting Sam. Hard. Sam shrieked before sitting down exactly where he was, refusing to move any further until there was some light. His head pounded. His shoulders ached. The thing had been heavy, and it had _hurt_ as it fell on him. Feeling miserable, Sam decided it wasn't ever a bad idea to cry. So he started crying. Dean will save him. He always did.

What Sam didn't know was that he was sitting in the middle of the hall with a large metallic vase rolling away from him not in the middle of the night but , in fact, it was bright and early in the morning with the sun shining in from the large window in front of the stairs.

* * *

The night had passed uneventfully. Perhaps too uneventful, looking back on it. But other than having to kick the cat off his legs a few times during the night while he slept, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and Dean had allowed himself to relax. Which was why he woke up with such a start when he heard the crash from upstairs.

The vampire was jolted out of the peaceful slumber he’d managed to find so fast it was a wonder he didn’t fall off the couch completely. It didn’t matter because when he heard Sam’s cry of pain a second later Dean was on his feet and running, taking the stairs two at a time. His fangs descended ready to rip out the throat of anything that was attacking the boy.

But when he found Sam the child was alone. He was sitting in the middle of the hallway, his eyes screwed shut and crying loudly. A small table that had been holding a rather large vase knocked over on its side. The vase itself looked unharmed but Sam’s forehead was bleeding.

Dean rushed over to Sam’s side and knelt down beside the boy, reaching out to brush his bangs back off his forehead to examine the wound. It wasn’t bad, just a shallow cut but there was already a bruise starting to form. No doubt Sam would have quite a lump there in a couple of hours.

"Sam? Are you all right? What happened?" Dean asked, his fingers moving from the boy’s forehead to his cheek, gently wiping away the tears there.

* * *

Sam kept crying until suddenly, there was Dean, gently brushing his tears away. Sam clung to him immediately, one hand finding Dean's arm and the other grabbing Dean's shirt in the darkness.

"I fell!" Sam wailed. "And something hit me! And it _hurt_!" Sam sobbed some more before whimpering when his bladder gave a warning. "I have to go pee! And I can't find the bathroom! And its so dark and I can't find the light switch! Deaaaannnn!" Sam bawled, pretty much throwing a tantrum in his misery. Sam opened his eyes again, trying to see Dean through the darkness. Since Dean was a vampire, he could probably see better in the dark. Why was it so pitch black here anyway? Shouldn't there be _some_ light?

* * *

Sam continued to cry as the boy clung to him almost desperately and Dean felt something twist in his heart. He hated seeing the child like this, hurt and scared as he tried to tell him between hiccuping sobs what had happened. Dean wanted more than anything to make it right, make it better, somehow but none of it made sense. Couldn’t find the bathroom? Dark… but it was broad daylight? What the hell?

When the boy opened his eyes Sam’s terrified babbling suddenly made horrifying sense. The boy was blind… but… how? How could this have happened? This… wasn’t normal. Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly, wrong. He… he needed to take the boy to Annabelle. Now.

But he had to calm Sam down first. Try to keep the terrified child from freaking out even more. Get him to the bathroom.

“Its all right, Sam. It’s going to be all right.” Dean tried to sound as reassuring as he could. He didn’t even know if he should try to explain to Sam what was wrong, especially since Dean didn’t understand it himself.

“Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom. I’m sorry it’s dark, but don’t worry, I’m right here, ok?” The vampire soothed as he helped the boy stand. Taking him by the hand and gently leading him towards the bathroom. Making sure that Sam didn’t walk into anything or hurt himself further.

Once they reached the bathroom Dean steered the boy towards the toilet and placed Sam’s hand on it so he knew where it was. He knew he should give the child some privacy to do his business now, but he didn’t want to leave the bathroom and risk Sam bumping into anything, or falling, and hurting himself more. Sam would probably be ok for a few minutes if Dean just turned his back so he could pee.

“Alright, do your business. We’ll go see Annabelle after this and she’ll make everything better, I promise.” Dean hoped to god that wasn’t an empty promise. 

* * *

Dean's soothing voice and gentle attention went a long way to calm Sam's hysterics. Sam nodded, still sniffling but better now because Dean was here and he said he'll fix everything. They just had to switch the lights on, right? Maybe the power was out... Dean will go later and fix the power. And then Sam will be able to see and it'll make him feel better.

Dean helped guide Sam's hands to the cool porcelain ring of the toilet and Sam instantly oriented himself. Sam didn't hear Dean leave, but it only made him feel better knowing that Dean was there. Quickly doing his business, even if he was a little slow to make sure that he didn't get anything dirty, Sam found the flush knob and then started feeling around for the sink. Finding it was quick. It was right next to the toilet seat. Sam washed his hands as well as he could without getting too much wet, and then he was reaching for Dean, looking for him in the dark with his wet dripping hands outstretched.

Being busy trying not to dirty things and relieving himself had distracted Sam enough that he wasn't panicking anymore. He was relaxed now, even if still a little freaked out by the dark and his head still hurt badly but the pain was slowly ebbing away.

When Sam found Dean, he held his arms up in the universal gesture for 'Up'. "Dean? Up?" Sam asked softly, trying to make his best puppy eyes in the direction he assumed Dean's face must be. Somewhere up there... he figured. Unfocused eyes moved constantly, trying to find something to focus on but couldn't.

He wondered for a moment when he had started trusting Dean this much. He had wanted to run for so long, and now suddenly he didn't want to run _from_ Dean, but instead wanted Dean to come along with him to find Daddy. Sam still didn't believe that Dad was dead. Dad was strong. He was the best hunter _ever_. He wasn't dead. He was just looking for Sammy. And once Dad found Sam and Dean, then he'll see how Dean took care of Sam and he won't kill Dean. And then Sam and Dean can have fun while Daddy kept hunting and all would be perfect again.

* * *

When the vampire heard Sam finish peeing and flush the toilet he turned back to watch and make sure the boy didn’t trip and fall as he moved around the bathroom. Sam did fairly well finding his way around in the ‘dark’ and that helped ease the vampire’s worries a little. It could have been much worse, and he knew it. Sam could have seriously hurt himself fumbling around without his sight. What if he had gotten too close to the stairs and fallen? The idea nearly made his heart stop even as it filled him with rage.

He knew this wasn’t natural. He had seen enough of magic in his long lifetime to know that much. Someone had _done_ this to Sam, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who, or what, was probably behind it. They had managed to successfully hide Sam from the demons and this was an attempt to flush them out.

The sad thing was, it might just work. If Annabelle couldn’t reverse this herself, that meant Dean was going to have to leave and find the one responsible and force them to reverse it. He wasn’t about to give up Sam to the demons, but he knew if he left the area that was under Annabelle’s protection they could still follow him back to Sam when he returned.

Their little hidden mojo bag hadn’t worked, so he doubted they would be so subtle the next time around. But he had to take that chance. If they could do this to Sam, who was to say their next attempt to flush them out wouldn’t be more deadly? This was nothing more than a party favor compared to what they might be able to do to the boy.

When Sam reached for him Dean ignored the fact that the boy’s hands were still wet and picked him up instantly, cradling him against his chest protectively.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you, Sammy. Go ahead and close your eyes. I’ll take care of everything.” Dean reassured as he headed downstairs to find Annabelle. The vampire rapped on the basement door twice to announce his arrival before he pushed it open and descended down the old wooden steps.

The basement was the exact opposite of the house upstairs. While the upper floors of the house would never give away the fact that the old grandmotherly lady who lived here was an extremely powerful witch, the basement was almost a cliché. It was dark, lit only with a few candles. The smell of earth was heavy in the air, along with various dried herbs and less pleasant smells. Vials and jars of spell components lined the crowded wooden shelves along with cobwebs and animal parts. Symbols even Dean couldn’t identify were carved or painted on the old stone walls in what looked and smelled like blood. Dean could practically taste the magic down here, feel it like a low thrum underneath his skin.

Annabelle looked up from where she was bent over a slowly boiling caldron in the fire pit near the back of the room. A frown marred her features, he knew she didn’t like to be disturbed in the middle of casting, but this was important.

“Dean. It’s not ready…” She began, but paused mid sentence, her frown deepening when she looked at Sam in his arms. Her nose wrinkling as though she’d just smelled something foul. If Dean needed any more proof there was dark magic at work on the boy, he had it.

“Something’s happened, Annabelle.” Dean said, but Annabelle was already gesturing him to come closer and set Sam down. The vampire did so, though reluctantly. Annabelle knelt down in front of the boy.

“Let me see you, honey. Open your eyes.” Annabelle encouraged softly. 

* * *

Sammy?

Dean had called him Sammy... Only Daddy called Sam 'Sammy'. Sam held Dean back a little tighter at the endearment, memories of his Dad calling him that when Sam did something good, or when Daddy gave Sam one of the rare hugs he did. It felt nice, Sam decided, for Dean to call him Sammy even if only Daddy had called him that so far.

He held on as Dean walked, the jostling of Dean's movement almost hypnotic until the clean, warm air shifted to something darker, slightly heavier with smoke and spicy like someone had been burning plants. Sam wrinkled his nose, but stayed quiet as he heard Annabelle's voice. Then Dean answered. Something's happened? What happened? The power went out. Annabelle must have noticed though, right?

Then Dean was setting him down on a hard surface and Sam sit there, gripping Dean's hand tightly because he didn't want Dean to go away. Then Annabelle's voice was closer, right in front of him and Sam swallowed thickly. He wasn't stupid. Something was wrong. And it was wrong with him, wasn't it?

He opened his eyes again, trying to find Annabelle's image in the all encompassing darkness. It was pitch black, so much so that Sam felt like it was difficult to breathe. Even when normally he closed his eyes, there were starbursts across the back of his eyelids and fireworks and moving colourful lights. But now when he did that, all he saw was black.

"Something's wrong with me, isn't it?" Sam asked softly, eyes moving rapidly as he tried to see something... _anything_. "Is it me?" Sam asked again, voice going quieter as fear entered it. He reached up, rubbing his eyes hard as though he could clear a film off it and return his vision, his breathing going harsh and short, skin turning pale as he began to panic. "It's dark! It's dark! Switch a light on! Please switch a light on!" Sam begged, nearly growing hysterical as his voice grew louder and louder, little fingers rubbing so hard against his eyes but he still couldn't see the pinpricks of light that showed up when he pushed too hard.

* * *

Dean could see Sam’s panic growing again and again the vampire felt that all encompassing rage building inside him against whatever had done this to the boy. He pushed that anger down again forcibly however, knowing it would probably only frighten Sam more, but it was difficult.

When Sam began rubbing at his eyes, hard enough that he might accidentally do damage to himself, Dean quickly moved to grasp the boy’s hands and pull them away from his face. Sam had been calmer when he’d been close to him, so Dean picked the boy up once more, taking the seat on the stool Sam had been sitting on, and placing the boy in his lap, hugging him close.

“Its all right, Sam. Its going to be all right. Annabelle will make it all right.” Dean whispered reassuringly in the boy’s ear as he looked to the old witch. He knew his expression wasn’t one he wore often. It was pleading for her to make his promises not absent ones.

Her answering frown was not reassuring, however her voice was soft and reassuring when she finally spoke.

“It will be all right, honey.” She said, as she moved to continue her examination of the boy. Gently grasping his face and turning it towards her. Feeling his forehead and closing her eyes. Muttering a soft incantation that Dean didn’t understand. Finally she stood up, a small dagger in her hand. Dean kept up his reassuring words as she took the boy’s hand and she drew a drop of blood from his finger with it and took it over to her alter.

As she mixed several herbs together into a bowl and dipped the dagger into the mixture, continuing her incantation, Dean brought the boy’s finger to his lips and licked the small wound. It closed almost instantly and he continued to gently pet Sam’s hair until Annabelle had finished her spell.

Her expression wasn’t any more comforting when she finally turned her attention back to them.

“What is it?” He forced himself to say. Annabelle’s hesitation before answering made his uneasiness grow.

“It is a spell. A powerful one. I do not think I can break it, not without doing great harm. Only the caster can break this spell. This…” Annabelle paused gesturing to Sam’s eyes. “Is only a taste of what the spell can do, I am afraid.”

Annabelle didn’t elaborate and the vampire was glad for that, the child was terrified enough. Dean growled low in his throat. It didn’t take a genius to understand what was going on. The demons couldn’t find them so they were trying to draw them out. How far would they go? Making the child go blind was bad enough but would they physically harm him? Make him ill again? How far would they push trying to force him to give the boy up to them?

“There is one thing I can do.” Annabelle finally said and Dean’s eyes snapped to hers demanding. “I can tell you where the caster is.”

That was all Dean needed to know. 

* * *

Alyssa carefully hid the glass vial with the potion in it, surrounding it with charms that made detecting it magically impossible. She wasn't stupid. She knew the vampire will be coming after her any minute now, and the only thing standing between her getting her way and was the glass vial. If it broke due to any reason, the spell will instantly break. The strongest spells, unfortunately, were also the most fragile.

She was sure that today was the day she gets the child. This had been incredibly difficult... more difficult than retrieving a six year old had any right to be. Seriously. That boy was _six_. But somehow, that stupid boy, the Boss' _favorite_ , had also attracted the attention of a vampire. And not just any vampire, but an old and powerful one. It was just Alyssa's luck. Even more, she was starting to suspect that the vampire had magical help. After all, why else would all her locating spells fail? The boy wasn't just Azazel's favorite, he had also been adopted by a fucking vampire and then somehow managed to get into the protection of a witch.

Well... she could see how Azazel would be fond of this one. And the kid was cute on top of it.

Alyssa sauntered into an abandoned warehouse, convinced that the witch helping Dean out will pinpoint him exactly to her location. And this warehouse made sure there wouldn't be any witnesses. It's not that Alyssa cared much about shedding more blood... it was just extra work that she'd rather not do. She went and leaned against the edge of a large wooden crate, waiting for the vampire to show.

 

*

 

Sam calmed down once he was sitting on Dean's lap, letting Annabelle do as she wanted. He hissed when he felt his finger hurt, a spike of pain that dulled instantly when he felt Dean lick at his finger. Sam was starting to relax now, knowing that Dean will fix him and Annabelle will help. And it wasn't like it hurt a lot. He could be patient and not make Dean worry more.

"Dean?" Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's hand. "Could you get me a Happy Meal? After you fix me?" He asked, looking to the side and up trying to catch Dean's eyes even though he was unable to see. He was pretty sure his begging look wasn't too hampered by his current problem.

* * *

Dean looked down at the boy in his lap when Sam grasped his hand and he couldn’t help but laugh softly at the request. The boy had been blinded by a demon bitch that was tracking him for god knew what purpose and the only thing that Sam could think of was a happy meal? What was so special about those cheap plastic toys anyway? Well, he should probably be glad that it was so easy to make Sam happy.

“I promise.” The vampire replied, looking up when Annabelle handed him a slip of paper with an address on it. He might not have lived in the area for a long time but it hadn’t changed much. He knew exactly where Annabelle was sending him. He also knew he might not come back. But he had to risk it.

A silent discussion passed between them when he met the old witch’s eyes and he knew that she would do her best to look after Sam and make sure he was safe if Dean didn’t return. Giving her a small nod of thanks, he gently hugged Sam for a moment before he gently eased Sam off of his lap, stood, and guided the boy to sit back down.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be good for Annabelle.” Dean told the boy, running his fingers gently through Sam’s hair for a moment with a soft look in his eyes before his expression hardened once more.

“Dean.” The vampire looked to the witch and she handed him a knife. At first glance it looked like any other knife, completely unremarkable, but once it was in his hand it seemed to almost vibrate with energy. When he touched the blade with his finger he hissed softly at the intense burn he felt. It was definitely not a normal knife. He gave her another nod of thanks.

“Good luck, Dean.” She said before he turned and headed back upstairs out of the basement and out of the house. He got into the Impala and drove it to the edge of town where the old warehouses and mills were located. He could smell the aroma of sulfur as soon as he got out of the car. The demon wasn’t even trying to hide. Well, good. He wanted this over with quickly.

Slipping the knife into the waistband of his jeans, close but hidden, Dean started walking into the abandoned structure. 

* * *

Alyssa smiled when she sensed the vampire coming closer. This was it. She _had_ to get the boy now or Azazel will have fun throwing her to Alistair for some one on one time. There were only so many failures Alyssa could get away with, and she wasn't even the favorite...

And then there was the rumor going that Azazel's own daughter was going to get her hands dirty if necessary to get this job done.

Alyssa checked her nails nonchalantly, trying to put up a front of complete calmness, like she isn't worried at all about the outcome of today. Like she has reinforcements coming. Like she has a trap laid out.

All of which she doesn't, come to think of it. She probably should have laid a trap out. Something to control the vampire with...

As the vampire came closer, Alyssa's panic increased. No, she wasn't prepared for this. She should have thought up more failsafes. What was wrong with her?! Getting cocky because of a glass vial? Come to think of it, hiding it in the broken in wall in the storage room behind her wasn't a very good hiding place. What if the building came down? It'll smash the vial and the boy would be free...

Even worse, what if the spell backfired? Alyssa had put a lot of power into it to combat the other witch's protection spells, and curses with that much power have a horrible tendency to rebound.

She pasted a cocksure smile on her face when the vampire appeared though.

"If you're looking for the cure, then I really hope you brought the boy with you. Otherwise you just wasted both our times," Alyssa said with a smile, a machete hidden behind her in the wooden crate, covered in dead man's blood. She hoped she'll get a chance to actually use it. If the vampire decided he wanted her head, then she'll only have a split second to act.

 

*

 

As Dean left, Sam sat there where Dean had left him for a few minutes, completely quiet. Then he got curious and twitchy, wanting Dean back. He would have been more patient if he could see, but in the pitch black surrounding him, Sam quickly grew irate.

"Where's _Deeeaaannnn_?" Sam whined, squirming on his spot. Sam sniffled, looking this way and that but the blackness didn't leave. "When's Dean coming bacckkk?" Sam whined some more. He was getting ready to throw a tantrum if he didn't get Dean back quickly enough. Why did Dean leave him? Wasn't he going to fix him? He wanted Dean back! Where was Dean? Dean had said he'd be back soon, but where did he go? Did he go to get a Happy Meal? He'll be back soon if it's a Happy Meal, and Sam's willing to wait. But the longer Sam has to wait, the more he's going to get cranky and he could already feel his mood slipping.

In a few hours, he's going to be a handful and then some.

* * *

He hadn’t lived this long with being foolish or careless. As he walked through the broken warehouse doors all his senses remained on alert for any kind of surprise. Demons weren’t exactly known for fighting fair. But that was fine with the vampire. Because he wasn’t planning on fighting fair either.

Dean answered the demon bitch’s baiting with a vicious snarl, his fangs descending and his eyes turning blood red in rage. He wanted nothing more than to rush forward and rip her throat out, just like he’d done before. But she hadn’t gotten the message before, and that wouldn’t help Sam. He needed her to break the spell first. Then he could rip out her throat.

He watched the shadows warily but as far as he could tell he could tell the bitch was alone. He could smell only smell her. He could smell something else too. She wasn’t nearly as confident and she was pretending. Not by a long shot.

“How about this. Reverse the spell and leave the boy alone and I won’t rip off your head and shove it up your ass.” Dean growled back. Of course even if she did break the spell, he was going to kill her anyway.

***

After Dean left Annabelle continued her work on the spell that would hopefully keep the demons from locating the boy in the future. She hoped to complete the spell before the vampire got back and perform the ritual then. If the ritual worked, then Dean and Sam could leave that night.

Not that she wanted the two to go, but she knew Dean probably would. She knew it had taken a lot for the vampire to return here to ask for her help. He must truly care a great deal for the child. She hoped it wouldn’t prove to be the man’s undoing.

The witch looked up from her task when the boy started squirming and whining not long after the vampire had gone. She smiled at the child, even though Sam could not see it.

“Dean will be back when the spell is broken. Don’t worry.” She replied gently, but before she could return to her task she felt a ripple of darkness just outside the protections she’d erected around the house. Annabelle frowned. Isis raised her head from where she’d been napping on an uncluttered part of the table and hissed.

“Sam… I want you to stay where you are. Don’t move or make a noise.” The witch finally said, her tone broke no argument. 

* * *

Alyssa smiled, pushing away from the wooden crate to casually amble closer to Dean, stopping a fair distance away. She kept her fear tightly locked up when she saw the change in him, the way his fangs descended and his eyes turned red. Dean would have made one hell of a scary ass demon. Alyssa was a little remorseful that they didn't have him on their side. In fact, this would all be so much easier if Dean would just join them.

"That's not how it works, Dean," Alyssa said, eyes turning black. Why keep up pretenses? Presenting normal human eyes needed a steady source of power, and even if it was a small amount, Alyssa was sure she'll be needing every shred of it to fight Dean. She knew Dean hadn't come with the boy, and so Alyssa had to play carefully.

"You know what a _Trias_ spell is, Dean?" Alyssa said, grinning as she held up a hand. "Step 1, sensory deprivation. Little Sammy's just lost his vision so far, right? Next is speech. Then his hearing. Sounds delightful." She held up a second finger. "Step 2. Little Sammy won't be able to move anymore. Paralysis, as they say it. Trapped in his own body with no sensations. Sounds perfect. And then step three is my favorite part, Dean," Alyssa licked her lips, delighted at the prospect. "It's when that boy's trapped mind starts getting nightmares. Nightmares he won't wake up from. So, do you _really_ want to put a kid that young through that much trouble just because you've grown a little bit... attached?"

Alyssa's eyes grew harder as her smile disappeared. "I'm done playing games, vampire. Give me that kid and I'll break the spell. Boss likes him too, so you can be sure he'll be taken care of. He's just a little antsy about a vampire handling his favorite boy."

 

*

 

Sam looked around wildly even if he couldn't see when he heard the urgency in Annabelle's voice. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on but instead slapped both his hands over his mouth to keep quiet. His eyes were wide open, still moving constantly trying to find out what the problem was.

He wanted to ask what was going on so badly... but he also knew he had to follow Annabelle's orders. And he could hear the kitty hissing too... so Sam stayed right there, still as he could be with his mouth closed behind his hands.

* * *

An angry vampire was something most smart, and sane, people would try to avoid. Well, if most people actually believed in vampires. Intentionally baiting an already pissed off vampire? That was just suicidal.

The threats made against Sam quickly pushed the vampire from merely pissed off to enraged. He moved so fast he would have been nothing more than a blur to the human eye. She was armed, of course. With a machete no less and she was fast with it. But Dean was faster.

He easily knocked away the blade aimed for his neck with his arm, ignoring how it bit into his flesh clean to the bone and crashing into the demon with the force of a freight train. Dean threw her to the ground with enough force to crack the cement beneath her, not to mention every bone in her human host at the same time, and pinned her there.

Annabelle’s knife was in his hand half a second later and he buried the blade deep in her shoulder. He watched the wound his and crackle and grinned at the satisfying shriek of pain she made.

“Reverse. The. Spell. Now.” Dean growled, baring his fangs and twisting the knife a little more with each word for emphasis. Ignoring the burning pain that was beginning to travel up his arm and the way his vision blurred a little. That combined with the fact that the wound on his arm wasn’t closing was enough to tell him maybe the demon bitch wasn’t as stupid as she looked after all.

Dead man’s blood.

***

Annabelle quickly moved to her shelf of ingredients and picked up a large unassuming jar. He could feel her protections weakening as whatever was outside them literally clawed at her magic. Whatever was out there knew that the boy was in here. Maybe the demons had finally figured out a way to see the boy through her magic. Or perhaps a lookout had seen Dean leave. Her magic might work against demons themselves but it did little against mere mortals, or other witches, who served them.

Where Sam sat in the chair Annabelle turned over the jar, pouring its contents in a circle around the boy. A mixture of salt, silver and iron shavings, and other ingredients that warded against evil. If her outside protections failed and she couldn't stop whatever was attacking it would hopefully protect the boy long enough for Dean to return. As long as Sam didn’t leave the circle. 

* * *

Alyssa was starting to feel like she was talking to a rock. She just told Dean what would happen if Dean didn't cooperate, and what did Dean do? He stuck her with a knife. And not just any knife, but a cursed one that seemed to be burning it's way through her black soul. Alyssa shrieked when she got stabbed by that knife, the pain tearing through her like she was back on the rack in hell, and when she tried to leave the body, the knife held her there. Alyssa knew that Dean had her at a disadvantage here, but she had poisoned him with dead man's blood too.

She supposed it was a stalemate.

"If you kill me you're never going to break that spell," Alyssa snarled, loving how Dean's eyes were growing a little unfocused. If it came down to a waiting game, Alyssa knew she'll be able to bear through a little pain but the dead man's blood might become too much for Dean soon. "Why do you even care about that boy?! Find another boy to orphan and take him under your wing! Hell, I bet you can find a cuter, less troublesome boy too. Trust me, soon enough that boy's going to be a lot of trouble."

It was a change in the air that alerted Alyssa, and she looked up, seeing a man sitting on top of a crate several feet behind Dean. He hadn't been there before. He blinked and his eyes turned yellow. Alyssa felt herself pale... if Boss was here, then she was probably definitely in trouble.

"Kindly let go of Alyssa, Dean," The man said, standing up to amble towards them. "I need to have a _talk_ with her. And that's a little difficult to do when you're lying on top of her slowly being poisoned and she has a cursed knife stuck in her. It messes with the mood a little, don't you think?"

 

*

 

The silence started getting to Sam. He stayed sitting where he was, but without anyone telling him what was going on, Sam started feeling very much blind. "What's going on?" Sam whined, squirming a little on his chair as he rocked his legs back and forth. "Annabelle? What's going on? Are we in trouble? Can I help?"

* * *

Dean felt it when the dead man’s blood hit his heart. It wasn’t just his arm that was on fire anymore, but his entire body. He merely grit his teeth through the pain and growled, forcing his mind to focus. The blood wouldn’t kill him. There wasn’t enough of it in his system for that. But combined with the blood loss if he didn’t take care of this demon bitch soon it might give her the upper hand.

He wasn’t going to let that happen. If he died nothing was going to stop them from taking Sam. He was going to force her to break the spell, no matter what it took. Even if he had to rip the flesh from her bones in strips. He’d promised… Sam… he was going to protect him.

The sound like a vacuum of air being displaced and the smell of sulfur made him look away from his prey. The vampire growled viciously at the new intruder but as much as he hated to admit it the cards were stacking against him quickly. It was the other demon. The one who had approached them in the restaurant. The one who was far more powerful than the black eyed bitch pinned beneath him now.

Slowly Dean pulled the knife out of the female demon and stood, backing away from them both on legs almost refused to obey him. Blood still flowed freely from the wound on his arm. If he didn’t get the bleeding stopped and fresh blood into himself soon…

But right now he had bigger problems.

***

Annabelle felt her wards give way under the tremendous assault, the beasts tearing through the opening with vicious intent. She stepped into the circle with Sam and put her arms protectively around the child.

“Just stay beside me, Sam. All will be well.” The witch answered the boy comfortingly even as the door to the basement blew open in a shower of splinters and the first hellhound came charging through.

The witch raised her hand, muttering an incantation under her breath, and her eyes started to glow with white-hot fire. The hellhound’s angry growls abruptly changed to painful shrieks as it burst into flames. 

* * *

Azazel smiled as Dean got up and away from Alyssa. For once, the vampire was doing exactly as he should be. As soon as the cursed knife was gone, Alyssa was standing up, blubbering out protests and excuses.

"Now, now, now," Azazel said quickly, wagging a finger and Alyssa stopped mid-sentence. "I just want you to answer a few simple questions," Azazel smiled, reaching out to cup her cheek gently. "What was my only condition when I gave you the hair?"

Alyssa's eyes widened as she started shaking a little. "Not to hurt the boy," she said, voice quiet and shaky.

"Very good." Azazel smiled. "And what did you go and do?"

"The vampire wouldn't have let him go otherwise!" Alyssa shrieked, angry eyes seeking out Dean's and then narrowing in pleasure when she saw that he was very much in pain.

Azazel rolled his eyes. "That still does not excuse your disobeying my direct orders!" Azazel said, a burst of anger that had Alyssa stumbling back. "I really think you're more trouble than you are worth up here," Azazel said and Alyssa screamed turning to run but a moment later a column of black smoke was being forced out of her throat, hanging in the air as it crackled and fizzed like static electricity before it hit the ground, disappearing into bright, fiery cracks. Alyssa's now empty body fell heavily to the ground, the head cracking open on the unforgiving cement. If the woman had been alive before, she wasn't anymore.

Azazel smiled as he looked up at Dean. "Now, finally alone." He stepped over the dead body as he walked closer to Dean. "How about a deal, Dean? Right this moment, my oldest - and quite frankly, most vicious - daughter is working on bringing the boy out, and she doesn't care who she has to tear through to get him." Azazel winked. "If you get my drift. Look, I'm not asking for much. I understand that little Sammy is precious. And apparently your... rusty..." Azazel reached out to lightly brush off some imaginary lint off of Dean's jacket. "... parenting instincts are kicking in, so how about you keep the boy but I get visiting rights? Unsupervised, of course." Azazel pulled out the small glass vial with the gold liquid in it. "And as a show of good faith..." Azazel let go of the vial and it crashed as it hit the ground, the spilled pale gold liquid turning brighter for a moment before dulling into a murky, muddy green.

Azazel took in Dean's pale skin, his glassy eyes and the way he was trembling just a little and he was glad that Alyssa wasn't a total moron. But she had several more centuries on the rack to go before she could handle the real world.

 

*

 

Sam held on tightly, eyes squeezed shut even though he couldn't see anything when he heard the animal's growling and shrieking. Whatever it was, it scared him. He kept his eyes tightly shut until he felt something change. The little lights behind his eyelids were back, and the tighter he closed them, the faster the lights danced.

He slowly started opening his eyes and light seeped through, and then he was looking at Annabelle's belly where he was pressed up against her.

"I can see!" Sam said, looking up at her. Dean had done it! Dean had saved him! Sam grinned gleefully, forgetting for a moment what trouble they were in. Then he looked around at the damage, and then he heard another growl as something came tearing down the stairs. It felt like it was huge as the sound of its feet hitting the floor was heavy and dull, reverberating through the floor and into their stomachs as it came nearer. Sam couldn't see it... but he knew it was there. _Something_ was definitely there... displacing the air and sucking up all the space in the room.

"Annabelle..." Sam said, scared as he turned around and pressed his face into her abdomen, playing the age old game of 'if I can't see them, they can't see me'.

* * *

Dean watched with no small amount of surprise the scene that played out before him between the elder and younger demon. This… was not how he had expected things to go. The two demons probably could have easily dispatched him, given his weakened state, and then gone after Sam. When instead the yellow eyed demon sent the demon bitch back to hell, at least that’s what Dean assumed he did, the vampire was downright shocked.

That didn’t stop Dean from growling and tightening his hold on the knife in his hand when the yellow eyed demon turned to him next. He took a stumbling step back when the demon approached him. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

A deal? Dean’s expression shifted from stubborn anger to fear when the demon mentioned Sam and Annabelle in danger. He could be bluffing… but the demon had no reason to bluff. He had Dean completely by the shorthairs at the moment.

Visitation rights… unsupervised… it was the last thing Dean wanted to agree to. Who the fuck knew what that would entail? But what choice did he really have? If he said no, the demon would probably just kill him, take Sam anyway, and kill Annabelle as well in the process…

Dean growled in anger and frustration but forced himself to say the words anyway.

“Fine. Deal.” 

* * *

Azazel smiled again, relaxing a little. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" He said as he looked at the dead body distastefully. "And I promise, _genuinely_ promise, that everything I have to teach that boy is for his own good. It'll save his life some day, I assure you."

"Now how about I let your little witchy friend go, and let you be on your merry way? I'll show up from time to time to see little Sammy, and when I do, I expect you to leave us alone," Azazel said as looked at Dean, making sure the vampire knew he was serious. "By the way, don't try and hide Sam from me... trust me, I'll find him. And the longer it takes for me to find him, the angrier I'll be when I finally do."

Then with a last grin, Azazel disappeared into thin air, leaving behind a miniscule trace of sulfur on the ground and a dead body belonging to god knew who.

 

*

 

Sam felt the change in the air instantly. The air became lighter, less oppressive. The pressure in the room lessened as the evil presence disappeared. Sam relaxed, slowly looking away from Annabelle's dress and outside. The door was splintered and broken open, the stairs had claw marks on them and there were deep gouges on the wooden floor right where the line of salt and things started. Sam shivered briefly before looking up at Annabelle for permission. He wasn't going to leave the circle until she said it was safe.

* * *

Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust and it had nothing to do with the lingering scent of sulfur in the air and everything to the foul taste those two words had left in his mouth. He felt like he had just betrayed Sam… even though the vampire had absolutely no intention of honoring his end of the bargain.

But at least it had bought him some time. Time to find a more permanent solution to this whole mess. As long as the yellow eyed bastard kept up his end of the deal, as long as they stopped actively trying to take Sam away from him…

He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the demon’s threats. He was going to be sorry he hadn’t simply killed the vampire when he’d had him at a disadvantage. He was going to be sorry he ever dared threaten those Dean… cared for.

Dean wasted just enough time to strip off his shirt and tear it into strips to fashion a makeshift tourniquet and bandage around his wounded arm. Slowing the flow of blood until the dead man’s blood had left his system and he healed.

Then he ran to the impala as fast as he was able to move, his vision doubling a few times but he was able to stay on his feet. Flooring the accelerator once he was behind the wheel, heading back to Annabelle’s house and trying not to crash the car in the process. The demon had better have honored his end of the ‘deal’ or he would hunt the fucker down to the ends of the earth for the rest of his immortal life.

***

Annabelle lowered her hand slowly, not quite believing that the hellhound had simply broken off its attack when it was so close to its goal. But she could no longer feel the dark presence that had broken through her defenses either. She did not know why it had stopped, but one thing was for certain, it was not by her doing.

Dean?

She felt the boy pressed fearfully against her start to relax and Annabelle looked down to meet Sam’s cautious eyes. Eyes that were once more clear. Sam was cured. It had to be Dean, he had done it… but what exactly had he done? Hopefully the vampire would return soon and she could ask him. But for now…

Annabelle nodded reassuringly to Sam, giving him a little comforting hug.

“It’s all right now, dear. You’re safe. How about we go upstairs and make some cookies while we wait for Dean?”

* * *

"Cookie?" Sam asked, still wrapped around Annabelle's waist. He looked at the destruction the monster had left behind and then back up at Annabelle. She looked so calm... how can she be so calm? Sam was nervous still, paranoid as he looked this way and that. He knew the monster was invisible, and that only made him feel worse. What if it was still here?

But when it had been there, it hadn't been quiet. It had been loud and horrible and destroyed things... so now that it was calm, Sam guessed it was gone.

Slowly, Sam let go of Annabelle but grabbed her hand still, not wanting to go upstairs without her. Sam wondered about Dean. He could see again, and that had to have been Dean's doing. Dean must have found the evil person who had taken Sam's eyesight from him. Even Sam knew that people didn't go blind suddenly... it had to have been black magic. Daddy always said that bad people sometimes used black magic to do horrible things to other people...

But why would someone do this to Sam? Sam hadn't hurt them... had he? Did he make someone angry?

And now that he could see again, did Dean find them and ask them to let Sam go? Did Dean kill them?

Sam worried about him. He wondered if Dean was okay... if he was coming back soon...

They slowly made their way upstairs, and Sam saw that the front door had been blown into splinters. He grew a little nervous again... _What_ had that thing been that came after them?

Sam clutched at Annabelle's hand tighter when he saw the front door, then he turned to her. "Can we make some for Dean too?" Sam asked softly, looking up into her kind blue eyes. "Can Dean eat them? I know he eats people but can he eat cookies?"

* * *

Annabelle continued to hold the boy gently until Sam calmed down and felt safe enough to let go of her. She took his hand and led him up the almost ruined steps carefully, sighing softly when she saw the mess that thing had made of her home. Dean was definitely getting the cleaning and repair bill for this. Good thing the vampire could afford it.

Isis followed them upstairs, rubbing gently against Sam’s legs. At Sam’s question the witch couldn’t help but smile down at Sam and chuckle warmly.

“Dean can’t eat people food, dear. It makes him sick. But I’m sure he would appreciate the thought.” Annabelle replied, gently patting Sam’s hand before releasing it and starting to take out the ingredients for the cookies. At least her kitchen was mostly intact. The worst damage to the floors and doors it seemed, though some things were knocked over and broken. She’d clean up later.

She let Sam help, as promised. Letting the boy measure a few ingredients, she even let him crack the eggs and start mixing the dough with a spoon while standing on a chair. That was when she heard the unmistakable rumble of the impala’s engine approach and gave Sam a little smile.

“See? Here comes Dean now.” She said as she watched the car pull into place in front of her house. As soon as Dean got out of the car however she could tell something was wrong. She could see he was moving wrong, and when the vampire got closer she saw all the blood, how pale he was…

* * *

Sam helped Annabelle out, slowly the mundane tasks that were huge to a six year old helped him forget about his earlier terror. He cracked the eggs carefully, making sure not to get any pesky shell pieces in the dough, and he helped Annabelle mix with so much concentration that Sam almost missed the sound of the car parking.

At Annabelle's mention of Dean, Sam stopped working on the cookies and instead took off for the front door.

"DEAAN!!" Sam yelled, glad that Dean was back as he rushed through the broken, splintered front door. He wanted to show Dean how he could see again, and how he and Annabelle were making cookies, even if Dean couldn't eat them. He got out of the house just in time to see Dean step out of the car, bloody and pale. "Dean?" Sam's tone was now less happy and more worried as he quietly went to Dean's side, reaching up to grab his hand. "You're hurt? Are you okay?" He asked the vampire softly, looking up at him. Sam felt worry slam into him at the sight of the strong vampire so weak right now. Vampires couldn't die, right? Didn't Dad tell him once that to kill a vampire you had to behead it? Dean's head was still on his shoulders though...

But Annabelle said earlier how vampires can get sick... what if Dean got sick because of this?

Sam held Dean's hand tighter, worried about Dean. He didn't want Dean to get sick or die or anything. He was starting to like Dean, even if the older man got mean sometimes.

* * *

His vision was swimming again, darkening around the edges, just how much of that fucking blood had gotten into his system? It was probably a miracle he didn’t crash the car several dozen times given how fast he was driving, and only hiked one of the wheels up onto the sidewalk when he finally pulled in front of Annabelle’s home.

Dean almost stumbled when he got out of the car, the blood in his veins feeling thick and sluggish, and the world felt like it was swaying back and forth with every step he took. He saw the front door, or lack of it, and fear seized in his chest. The demon hadn’t been bluffing… If Sam was hurt, or gone…

But the fear evaporated in an instant, relief washing over him almost sending him to his knees, when he heard Sam’s voice calling his name. The boy appearing a second later, rushing towards him, Annabelle not far behind.

As much as he hurt, Dean smiled gently down at the boy when Sam ran up to him and took his hand.

“I’m fine.” Dean reassured the boy. If he’d had the strength he probably would have picked Sam up and held him, but he didn’t. Annabelle wasn’t the least bit fooled by his reassurances however. She knew the signs of dead man’s blood poisoning. The witch quickly moved to the vampire’s other side and helped him into the house as quickly as possible. Normally the sun didn’t bother vampires too much but if they were already weak it would only make things worse. Once they were inside she guided him quickly over towards the thankfully intact couch.

“Sam, honey. I need you to go upstairs and get the first aid kit out from under the bathroom sink. But before you come back down, wash your hands as good as you can with lots of soap. Alright? Hurry now.” Annabelle told Sam, watching the boy go and then turning to the vampire with a more serious expression.

“How much blood have you lost?” She asked, and Dean sighed.

“A lot.” He admitted, and the old witch nodded. Leaving Dean standing by the couch in the living room she quickly went to the kitchen, gathering the supplies she would need. A trash bag, a large wooden bowl, which she filled with hot water, and lots of towels. She returned to Dean quickly, knowing she didn’t have much time before Sam returned.

“Strip.” She ordered, helping Dean remove his blood stained clothing and throwing it in the trash bag. Once the vampire was down to his boxers, she started washing the blood off his skin as best she could with the towels and water, also throwing them away when they became too soiled. Vampire blood was highly infectious. Even a drop of it in an open wound could infect her or Sam. Dean never should have let Sam touch him. Annabelle would have rather gotten the vampire directly into the shower but she wasn’t sure the man would be able to make it up the stairs in his condition.

Once he was as clean as possible, she sat him down and took off the makeshift bandage around his arm. The ugly wound was still seeping dark black blood and she frowned at it. They needed to get this closed. Her eyes met the vampire’s pain filled ones, understanding passing between them, and Dean nodded. She held her hand over the dripping wound without touching it, her palm flaring bright for a moment, and Dean grit his teeth to keep from howling in pain as she quickly cauterized the wound closed. The burn was ugly, but it had done the job, and the wound no longer bled. In a matter of weeks it would scar and fade as though it had never been there.

Once she was done Annabelle helped the exhausted vampire lay down and gently covered him with an afghan. 

* * *

There was so much blood...

Sam nodded quickly when Annabelle told him about the first aid kit, and he let go of Dean's arms to rush up the stairs, running into the bathroom to open the cupboard under the sink. It was filled with cleaners and bleach and sponges and other things, so Sam dug deeper and found the box in the back. He pulled it out, toppling a few cleaner bottles by accident, and then he opened it to find it filled with bandages and creams and everything.

Sam jumped up again, grabbing the kit and starting to haul it back downstairs when he remembered that Annabelle had told him to wash his hands thoroughly. He dragged the kit back up, put it to the side of the stairs before going back into the bathroom and washing his hands with soap, then again, just in case.

Then he dried his hands and grabbed the kit before rushing back downstairs to find that Dean was lying down on the couch and Annabelle had covered him with a blanket. Sam hauled the kit closer, smiling up at Annabelle slowly but he was still worried about Dean. So he put the kit on the coffee table and then he went to Dean, getting on his knees beside the couch and crossing his arms over the cushion to rest his chin on them.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, worried. "Are you really okay?" Sam knew Dean wasn't. He had seen Dad come home sick and hurting and injured too many times to know when it was bad and when Sam was just being lied to. Sam looked over Dean, making sure he was okay when he saw the long burn mark on Dean's arm. Sam gasped, jumping up to open the first aid kit and root through it, finding a cream for burns.

"This will help the pain," Sam said confidently, squeezing out a little of the white cream to start spreading it lightly over the wound, gentle as he could be. Sam's tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on being as gentle as possible, covering the entire wound with the thick, medicine-y smelling cream.

* * *

The vampire had been half-asleep the second he’d laid down. But when he heard Sam’s voice next to him, the boy sounding genuinely worried about him, Dean forced his eyes open. He gave Sam what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and nodded.

“I’ll be fine. Just need to rest a bit.” Dean replied and he wasn’t even lying. Sleep would do wonders to help him recover from dead man’s blood, but Dean decided not to mention the thing that would help him even more. Fresh human blood. As soon as the sun set he would have to go hunting. But Sam didn’t need to know that.

Dean winced a little in pain when Sam began to dab the burn ointment onto his arm, but after a few moments the worst of the pain started to fade. A normal six-year-old probably wouldn’t know which cream to use, but the vampire wasn’t all that surprised that Sam did. Having a hunter for a father, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Sam knew how to stitch a wound before he could read.

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean said, his eyes already starting to drift closed again in spite of himself.

Annabelle smiled at the vampire and the boy, and laid a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder as Dean drifted off to sleep.

“How about we finish those cookies now and let Dean rest.” Annabelle offered softly. 

* * *

Sam saw how Dean got all sleepy and so he quietly got up, letting Dean sleep. He followed Annabelle to the kitchen. He didn't make any noise, even when Isis came and started purring next to him. He quietly pet her head before watching Annabelle put chocolate chips in the dough.

"Dean's hurt bad," Sam said softly, worried. "Did the bad people hurt Dean? The bad people who want me?" Sam came and stood next to Annabelle, leaning against her a little as he looked up at her. "I don't want Dean to die..." He whispered, miserable as he wrapped his arms around Annabelle's hips, burying his face into her side. He was so, so worried about Dean... the vampire who normally stood tall and strong and sometimes mean and angry looked so fragile and small and weak right now. He was all pale and tired looking... it made Sam nervous. It made Sam want to grow up so that he won't need to be protected so much anymore and then he'll take care of Dean and not let him get hurt.

Dad was already gone, and Sam was slowly coming to grips with what that meant. Now he didn't want to lose Dean as well.

* * *

Annabelle was glad when Sam came with her without argument leaving Dean to get the rest he needed. While under normal circumstances Dean would probably cut off his own head before seriously hurting the boy intentionally an injured vampire was a very dangerous vampire. Until Dean had recovered from the poisoning and gotten fresh blood in his system he would be unpredictable at best.

She would try to keep the boy away from the vampire as much as possible until then. She only hoped that Sam cooperated. The old witch looked down and smiled gently at the boy when he expressed his worry for Dean.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about Dean. It looks worse than it is. He’ll be just fine as soon as he wakes up. I promise.” She reassured, giving the boy a gentle hug. After holding him for a moment she released the child with a small pat on his shoulder and handed him a spoon.

“Do you want to put the dough on the cookie sheet?” She asked, showing him how much to scoop out of the mix and drop onto the sheet. After a few moments she decided to answer Sam’s other question.

“They were demons, Sam. The ones that are after you, and the ones that hurt Dean. I don’t know why they want you, honey, but its probably very bad. Dean will protect you. He cares about you too.” 

* * *

Demons...

Sam knew, of course... he had seen the bad man's yellow eyes... but hearing it said out loud scared him still. The demons had killed his Mommy, and then made him blind and then hurt Dean...

Why were they after him?

Sam thought as they continued to put the cookie dough on the sheet. After a few minutes when Annabelle started putting the cookie sheet into the oven. Sam grabbed the cookie dough bowl and slid a finger through the mess, licking at the dough that came with it. As soon as he got the first bit of sugary treat in his mouth, his stomach growled loudly and that's when he realized that he hadn't eaten anything since last night. He felt bad for asking though, specially when Dean was so sick and sleeping in the living room.

Sam finished licking the bowl clean before going and putting it in the sink. He didn't want to give Dean reason to yell at him, not at the moment when Dean was so sick. He went to the door of the kitchen, looking into the living room and seeing Dean sleeping before he looked back at Annabelle.

"Dean said there's something you can do to make the bad people go away," Sam said quietly. "Can we still do it?"

* * *

Annabelle heard the boy’s stomach growl so she said nothing when Sam made a grab for the cookie dough bowl and began eating out of it. She’d never allowed her own children to eat desert before having a meal but given all Sam had been through she wasn’t about to scold the child for something so little. The boy _had_ asked for a Happy Meal before Dean had left, which the vampire understandably had forgotten. But Annabelle was certain she could whip something up that would tempt even the pickiest eater. She’d had children herself once after all.

She started going through her cupboards and fridge to find something for Sam’s lunch while the cookies were baking. As she was setting the items out to make a grilled ham and cheese sandwich for the child Sam’s question made her pause a moment.

“Yes, honey, we can still do it. If that’s what you want.” She replied, taking out a skillet and wiping off her stove before setting it on it. It would actually be smart to do her spell now, her protections were severely weakened already and probably would not hold up to a second attack. Hiding Sam now would be the smart choice, before another attack could occur, but she was reluctant to perform the spell without the vampire present.

“Do you want to wait for Dean to wake up before we do it?” The witch finally asked. Yes, Sam was young, but it was ultimately his choice. 

* * *

Sam looked back at Dean again, wondering. He didn't want to get whatever it was done alone. Dean had said it would hurt... but then again, Sam was a big boy and he could handle a little pain. Only little kids needed someone to hold their hand! Sam could so this... Sam bit hit lower lip lightly as he continued staring at the slumbering vampire. He wanted Dean to be there... but he could do this on his own. And Dean was sick too... so maybe it would be better to get it done while Dean slept so that he wouldn't have to worry about this as well.

"We can do it now," Sam said to Annabelle. "Dean needs his rest."

* * *

Annabelle nodded at Sam’s decision, a little surprised by it, but given what had just happened she could understand the boy’s desire for it not to happen again. The witch had lived here for a long time, her protections were powerful, and yet the demons after Sam had still nearly broken through and gotten the boy. She hoped her spell would be as successful as she hoped it would be in hiding the boy from the demon’s gaze.

As it was she knew as soon as Sam and Dean left she would need to leave as well. Just like Sam she did not want anymore demons coming knocking on her door and if they continued looking for the boy this was the first place they would look. It would be hard leaving the home she’d lived in for so long, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

Maybe she should have been angry at Dean for that, for bringing Sam here, and for all the trouble that had followed the boy and the vampire. But she couldn’t be too upset. She had loved Dean once and still felt a great deal of affection for the vampire. She also couldn’t deny she’d grown quite attached to the boy as well. She wondered how much of it had to do with missing her own children. If she were a little younger she might have asked the vampire to leave Sam with her to look after.

But, no, she was too old. Besides, she would never try to take the boy away from the vampire. Dean might not be willing to admit it yet but he needed the boy as much as Sam needed him. She had a feeling Sam was going to be very good for the vampire that had nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. She hoped Sam would remind him.

“Very well. As soon as you’ve had your lunch, we’ll go downstairs and take care of you.” The old woman agreed softly as she continued putting together Sam’s lunch. She didn’t want the boy to go hungry and more than likely Sam would have no interest in eating once the spell was complete.

After some time Annabelle set down a plate with Sam’s grilled cheese sandwich, a sliced apple, and some juice on what remained of her table.

“Your lunch is ready, honey.” She told the boy who was still hovering in the doorway watching the sleeping vampire. 

* * *

Sam smelled the food long before Annabelle called him, but he was focused on the image of the sleeping vampire. Dean looked so pale and weak and sick... it made Sam worry. He had already lost Dad and he was starting to believe that he really was gone, and now Dean looked so frail and weak...

Even though he had been aware of the food cooking for a while, Sam was still surprised when Annabelle called him to lunch. His stomach growled instantly and for a moment, Sam forgot his worries about Dean in order to deal with his more base necessities. The sandwich was delicious, and the apples crisp and sweet. He stuffed it all into his mouth at a speed not anywhere close to acceptable by polite standards, but it got the food in his stomach and made the hunger pangs go away.

Sam attempted to tell Annabelle how delicious it all was through a full mouth and then gave up half way through to focus on just eating when he started spraying food. By the time Sam was done, he was full and content and actually bordering on happy.

"We can do it now," Sam said simply. He had a full tummy and nothing could bother him right now. It was probably something simple like wearing an amulet or something... even though Dean had said that it would hurt, but it couldn't be that bad. "I'm ready." He smiled at Annabelle, bouncing a little in his chair. He was excited with the prospect of having bad people go away. Then Dean and him would get a house and live there and Sam would have his own room and everything will be perfect for ever and ever and ever.

* * *

When Sam finished his lunch and indicated that he was ready, Annabelle nodded. Gesturing for the boy to follow her back down the now rickety stairs to the basement they’d taken refuge in not an hour ago.

“Sit there. You have to be still and quiet.” The old witch told the boy, pointing to the stool where Sam had sat before, before making her way over to the caldron that she had prepared before. It was a vicious looking mixture, swirling green and black, but thankfully Sam did not have to drink it. Annabelle added a few extra ingredients, completing this part of the spell, and the caldron began to emit a green smoke and glow.

Annabelle began to chant softly under her breath. The words seeming to echo in the space like a hundred hissing whispers all speaking at once. She picked up the iron rod and dipped it into the concoction. The metal hissed as though she’d dipped it into acid. Its shape twisting and reforming of its own will into a specific shape.

Leaving the metal in the cauldron Annabelle picked up a bowl also filled with a vicious looking substance only this one was dark red like blood. She approached Sam with it still chanting. She stopped chanting briefly to tell the boy to take off his shirt, but even though she had stopped speaking the strange echoing whispers continued. Once Sam had done what she asked the chanting resumed and she dipped her fingers into the mixture and began to draw a bloody symbol on Sam’s forehead, then each of his hands, then she poured the remainder of the mixture over the boy’s head.

She returned to the caldron which was now glowing a bright white and she removed the iron rod that had shaped itself into a strange looking brand. It also glowed white as though it had been heated by the hottest flames but did not burn the witch as she carried it over to Sam. Annabelle moved behind the boy, still chanting, the whispering echoes growing louder, before she pressed the brand to the boy’s shoulder. The skin immediately hissing and glowing white where the metal touched it. Spidery webs radiating outwards from the brand to encase Sam’s entire body for a moment before she pulled the brand away.

* * *

Sam watched curiously as Annabelle worked. He looked at the swirling colors in the large pot she was using. Sam wrinkled his nose a little as he smelled the potion, finding the smell unique and not entirely unpleasant... but not pleasant either. Sam kept watching, sitting quietly and still where Annabelle had told him to. He listened to the chants, and the echoing whispers, and when Annabelle told him to remove his shirt, he did.

Then Annabelle was drawing symbols on his forehead and hands. Sam cringed, finding this thing's smell a little more intense than the other potion, and when Annabelle poured the rest of the mixture on Sam's head, he shrank away before muttering a long, 'Eewwwww'.

He stayed quiet after that though, because he wanted to be a good boy and he wanted the bad people to go away and stop hurting Dean. So he blinked up at her through the sticky mixture and watched as she came to him with an metal stick that was glowing white. But she was touching it so Sam didn't think it would be hot. Then Sam didn't see it as she moved behind him, even though he was getting a little nervous.

When the metal touched his skin, Sam screamed. His skin was on fire, every nerve that the metal had touched howling in agony before the pain started radiating out from there and encompassed his entire body. He started to scramble off the stool, trying to get away from the thing that was causing him that much pain and just then Annabelle took it away. Sam fell to his knees, eyes wide as his body trembled. Tears leaked from his eyes as he gave Annabelle the most betrayed look he could muster. Then he opened his mouth and sobbed. Loudly.

* * *

The child’s wailing did not surprise Annabelle in the least. However it did make her glad that she’d enchanted the basement years ago with a spell of silence years ago and that it was still intact. Couldn’t have the neighbors overhearing her chanting and spells in the middle of the night, after all. It probably also saved her from having her throat ripped out right now by a injured, starving, and enraged vampire responding instinctively to Sam’s cries.

Annabelle quickly replaced the glowing brand in the caldron and took a jar from one of her shelves. Her expression one of sympathy and regret as she approached the small boy again slowly and knelt down in front of him.

“I am so sorry, Sam. I know it hurts. But this will make it feel better, I promise.” The old witch said gently, opening the jar and scooping out a liberal amount of the cool cream. Unsure if the frightened child would run away from her she quickly dabbed the cream onto the burn before Sam could flinch away from her touch. The soothing mixture should ease the pain of the burn considerably and help it to heal faster.

She only regretted that she could not heal the brand immediately with her magic, but she did not want to risk the two spells conflicting and possibly canceling each other out. The spell had worked as far as she knew, and she did not want to risk weakening it, since there was no telling how long it would last to begin with.

“There, that should help. You were very brave, little one. I am very proud of you. I’m sure Dean would be proud of you too.” 

* * *

Sam started to get away from her but Annabelle was fast. He only managed to flinch as the cool cream touched his inflamed skin and when the burning subsided a little, Sam stopped his attempts to get away. The cream felt nice on the burn, making the agonizing fiery pain dull.

Sam's wailing didn't reduce in intensity, but it wasn't due to pain anymore but more out of the memory of it. Instead of running away from Annabelle, Sam scooted a little closer to the older, gentle woman. At her quiet words, his crying started to slow down to hiccups.

"D-Dean will be proud?" Sam asked through his sobs. He _had_ been a brave boy. And it had hurt so bad but Sam took it. And Sam was a good boy and he stayed in his spot. Now the bad people won't come after Sam and Dean, and Dean will be proud of Sam and know that he was a good boy and buy him Happy Meals. Sam reached up, wiping the steadily leaking tears off his cheeks and found them sticky with the goop from earlier.

"Eeewww," Sam sobbed, looking at his goo covered hands. He showed his dirty hands to Annabelle before repeating his 'eeww' to her before crying harder. He was tired now. This day had been so long. He had woken up blind, gotten attacked by an invisible monster thing, then Dean came back bleeding and weak and nearly dead, and now Sam got burned, and this day sucked _so hard_. "I'm d-dirty..." Sam whined before beginning to wail again. He was cranky and tired and upset and in pain. And being covered in goop was one thing too many for him right now. He wanted to be clean, and have Dean be okay, and he wanted the bad people to leave him alone and never come back. He wanted a Happy Meal too, dammit! And a bed, and Piratey, and his pajamas with the bears sleeping on fluffy clouds on it. He wanted his shoulder to stop hurting, and for everything to just _go away_.

* * *

Despite how horribly upset the child was, and with good reason, Annabelle could not help smile at the boy. The child was endearing. It was no wonder Sam had the big bad vampire wrapped around his little finger.

“Yes, very proud.” The old woman reassured, fetching a towel and starting to clean the boy off a little, being very careful not to touch his shoulder in the process. “I know. Unfortunately spells can be a little messy. But it’s all over now.”

Once the child was mostly cleaned, she retrieved another towel, which she wrapped gently around the boy.

“How about we get you a nice bubble bath started and wash the rest of this goop off? Then you can rest a bit, and by the time you wake up, I’m sure Dean will be all better too.”

* * *

Sam let Annabelle take care of him through the bath and then the dressing up afterwards. Sam sniffled and cried through most of the bath, even if the bubbles managed to make him smile every now and then before the soap stung his burnt shoulder and made him cry again.

Once he was sufficiently dried and dressed in his pajamas with the bears sleeping on clouds, Sam made a trip to the couch to look at Dean sleeping. Dean still looked pale, but Sam could see that he was slowly getting better. Dean didn't look like he was going to die soon anymore. Sam kept looking at him a few moments longer, thinking of what to say.

"I hope you'll be okay soon," Sam whispered quietly. "Goodnight, Dean." He leaned in and kissed Dean's cheek softly, the way Dad used to do the few times he was there to tuck Sam in at night. 'Goodnight, kiddo', Dad used to say. Then Sam made his way upstairs to bed, getting under the covers and closing his eyes, slipping into sleep within moments.

* * *

When Dean finally woke it was already nightfall. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know. He could feel it. The cool moonlight spilling over his skin like a gentle caress. He could hear it. The nighttime insects singing a constant chorus to the darkness. He could smell it..

The night wasn’t the only thing he could smell. Blood. Pumped by two living hearts. Very nearby. He could practically taste it…

Slowly Dean’s eyes opened. Feeling sluggish and not completely alert. That probably had a lot to do with his throbbing headache threatening to crack his skull in two. Thankfully the poisonous dead man’s blood had worked its way out of his system by now, but it had taken a great deal out of him.

He was ravenous. He hadn’t hungered this badly in years. Maybe not since he’d first been turned. The hunger had been so intense he’d killed the first person to cross his path, uncaring who it was. Not even if it was a girl he’d known all his life, a girl he’d loved, a girl he’d been planning on asking to marry him… His sire had been pleased. Dean hadn’t been.

Dean couldn’t even remember her name anymore. He could barely remember his own. The hunger clawed inside of him. Burning almost as badly as the dead man’s blood in his veins. Slowly Dean sat up, the light afghan covering him slipping to the floor as he stood. Moving easily through the dark house even though all he had to see by was the pale light of the moon.

He moved silent as a shadow up the stairs. Following the sound of the heartbeat. The smell of blood. Warm. Alive. Pure… Soon he was in the doorway. Nothing but a shadow silhouetted by the night, red eyes glowing with hunger as he stared at the small bundle lying in the middle of the bed. He approached the bed in sure, purposeful steps. His every movement that of a hunter stalking its prey.

But when he finally reached the bed he stopped. A flicker of recognition flashing in his glowing red eyes as he stared at the innocent sleeping face of the child in the bed. Dean knelt slowly, leaned in close… and pressed a soft kiss to the sleeping boy’s forehead.

“I’ll be back soon.” Dean whispered so quietly he doubted Sam would have understood him even if he’d been wake. Then the vampire stood up and left the room and the house. Once more the hunter. Once more the killer. But not Sam. Never Sam.

* * *

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up with Sam and he was dead asleep, chest moving up and down slowly in every shallow breath taken, eyes fluttering under the thin lids and fingers twitching from time to time as he reacted to a dream. Even though Sam was dead to the world, when the soft voice reached him and when the gentle touch on his forehead came, Sam subconsciously turned towards the warmth and affection coming from the person. Letting out a breath, Sam rolled over, coming closer to Dean and extending a hand onto the bed as though looking for the person he could sense near him. His fingers found nothing but the soft cloth of the comforter and Sam fell deeper into sleep once more.

He didn't hear Dean leave his room or the house.

 

*

Something changed as the spell Annabelle had done started to kick in. An unrest came over the demons and Azazel stood up where he had been sitting down for a nice, relaxing meal. His eyes turned yellow as he realized he couldn't sense Sam anymore, and it took him a moment to realize that the vampire had double crossed him.

As the anger turned to rage, Azazel started to smile. The vampire had guts, he'll give him that, but he had no idea who he was messing with.

Azazel grabbed the woman lying naked on the floor, choking and gagging as blood flowed from her ripped jugular. "Sorry, honey, Daddy needs to make a phonecall." He put a bowl under the pulsing jugular, watching it fill with quickly slowing blood until the woman was silent and the bowl was half full. He touched the surface of the thick liquid, chanting words in an ancient, dead language to call his demons to him.

_Find the boy, but don't touch him. I need to know where he is. Keep your distance. The vampire can smell you._

There was a shift in the air behind him and Azazel's smile turned even more wicked.

"You called?" Said a tall, slim woman with short brown hair and hazel eyes, wearing a brown leather jacket and jeans.

"Megan," Azazel said, turning to look at her. "Sam's your responsibility now. Watch over him. Don't let the vampire get any inkling of your presence-"

"You _know_ I hate subtle. Can't I rip the vamp's throat out?" Meg asked, sighing.

"You'll do as I say," Azazel's voice was gentle, but Meg was not stupid enough to not hear the threat in the words. "Watch over him. Make friends with him as he grows up. Mold him into the perfect candidate. But the vampire never finds out."

Meg smiled, looking forward to fucking around with that vamp and his ward. "Alright. But can I kill the witch?"

Azazel wondered. "As much as I would like you to, it would let Dean know there is still a threat. I'm sure he thinks he and the child are safe now."

Meg nodded, even though she didn't like it. As Azazel dismissed her, she made her plan. Eighteen was when Azazel's plans for Sam will start coming through, and as of now Meg had twelve years to mold him to perfection. But first... find the boy. Stealing Sam from Dean didn't work, so maybe subterfuge would be a better way to go about things. Not to mention, Alyssa had been a moron with too big dreams. She'll give that young one another couple of centuries on the rack before she's ready to handle Azazel's missions.

* * *

A little over an hour later Dean returned to Annabelle’s home. He’d found and fed from two homeless people a couple miles towards the ‘bad’ part of the city, draining them dry. Not the best of meals, but it would do. His blood lust had been sated, he’d regained most of his strength, his thoughts clear once more, and he was practically healed. Not bad after going up against two demons, all things considered.

Dean pushed the front door aside, reminding himself that he should probably at least fix it before he left. The lights were off, but that didn’t mean anything to a vampire. He could see perfectly in near total darkness. Which is why he saw Annabelle sitting on the couch, petting her cat Isis on her lap, waiting for him.

He gave her a small smile in greeting even though the expression on her face was a little worrisome.

“Annabelle…” He started to ask her what was wrong, but her soft voice cut him off.

“Its time for you to go, vampire.” She said, not unkind or angry, if anything she sounded sad.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” He asked, worry coloring his voice as he glanced up the stairs. Wanting to go check on Sam, make sure the boy was safe. Had something else happened while he’d been gone?

“Sam is fine, for the moment. We performed the ritual earlier, while you slept.” She explained softly, and his eyes snapped back to her in surprise. They… did what? Dean remembered the demon’s words, his warning, if he tried to hide Sam. Dean had every intention of hiding Sam anyway but he needed time to plan. Now he had no time. God damn it, why hadn’t they waited for him? Dean opened his mouth to speak but again he was cut off before he could say a word.

“It was Sam’s decision. The magic should be taking its full effect by now. Its not going to take them long before they start looking for them. If my… sources… are right, they have already started. This is going to be the first place they’ll come. You need to be far away when they do.” Annabelle finished explaining.

“What about you?” Dean finally asked when he was given a chance to speak. He wasn’t going to argue with the witch, if she said trouble was coming, then he and Sam needed to be gone like yesterday. But he’d already brought so much trouble upon her by bringing Sam here, how could he just leave her here to face it alone? Annabelle merely smiled in understanding.

“Don’t worry about me, Dean. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve already made plans. Your car is already packed. There are some cookies, drinks and food for Sam in a cooler for breakfast and lunch so you don’t have to stop. Just promise me one thing, vampire? Take good care of that boy.” She told him, a hint of steel now in her voice and Dean couldn’t help but smile. Seemed like Sam had another protector too now.

“I will. I promise.” Dean agreed. It was the easiest promise he’d ever made. Now he only hoped he could keep it. She smiled at him and stood up slowly. Isis hopped off her lap and meowed.

“Good. Take care, Dean.” She said, approaching him and kissing him softly on his cheek. Dean nodded and made his way upstairs to gather Sam. The boy was still sleeping and he picked Sam up, blankets and all, and carefully carried him downstairs and out to the car without waking the boy. Getting him settled in the back seat with his blankets and bear.

Dean gave one last glance towards the doorway, Annabelle and Isis were standing there and she waved at him one last time. He knew it would be the last time he ever saw her. Even though sadness tugged at his heart he waved back and offered her a smile before he got in the car and pulled away from the curb. He noticed the hex bag hanging on the rearview mirror, probably courtesy of the old witch and smiled again. Hopefully whatever magic was in it would last long enough to keep them safe and hidden until he could find a home for him and the boy.

He’d only been driving for about a half hour before he saw a bright orange glow in the mirror from the direction they’d left. It was far too early for it to be the sunrise and Dean realized it was probably Annabelle’s doing. The house was probably completely engulfed in flames by now, not a trace of evidence left.

Sending one last mental thanks to his old friend Dean turned his attention back to the road ahead of them. To the future. 


	6. Chapter 6

  


Sam bounced off the bus, backpack trailing behind by one hand, dragging in the dirt as Sam headed towards the driveway to a simple, but beautiful two story house. From the windows on top of the garage, Sam could see the dark curtains that were forever pulled shut, keeping the light from coming into Dean's room. On the other side of the house, facing the backyard would be Sam's room, tidy and clean because it turns out, Sam was obsessed with having things in order.

Grinning, Sam continued dragging the bag to the front door, digging out his key to open it and let himself in, shutting the door behind him quietly, locking it and then making sure the salt line was undisturbed. He tiptoed into the living room, threw the bag in the general direction of the coffee table before he headed upstairs, keeping quiet still because Dean could be asleep.

They had moved here nearly four years ago. After the whole thing with the demons and Annabelle branding a spell on him, Sam had woken up to Dean driving them out and away from the town where Annabelle lived. Sam knew that leaving that nice old lady behind must have been difficult for Dean so he had stayed quiet and let Dean drive. Eventually, Dean brought them to this medium sized town... it was large enough that everyone didn't know everyone and nobody was really all that interested in being curious about them, but it was small enough that it offered a kind of safety large cities didn't.

This house Dean bought soon after they moved here, enrolled Sam in a local school, and since then things had been calm. There were no demons showing up to take Sam away, or try and kill Dean, or anything. There were no invisible monsters and no bad ladies who wanted him to get out of the car. Slowly, Sam and Dean had gotten closer too. Sam had a very vague memory of his father anymore, and quickly John Winchester had become an idea instead of an actual person. Sam made up stories about him, trying to remember how his father used to look, what his voice sounded like, and the things he used to say. But the more time passed, the more Sam felt him slipping away. All he remembered now was that John Winchester was the most powerful man ever, and he had a scruffy beard, and Sam wanted to be just like him when he grew up. He also knew that his father was hunting the yellow eyed demon who had killed his mother... another person that Sam didn't remember anymore other than her name.

Now, Dean was all Sam had and usually, that was enough. Dean was now Sam's everything. He was his father, his brother, his best friend, and on certain occasions, his most hated enemy because Dean didn't let Sam eat as many cookies as he wanted or he didn't let Sam stay up really late and watch an action movie because he had school the next morning.

But Dean was nice, other than when he was angry but Sam knew that, even if Dean didn't really ever say it in words, Dean liked him and cared for him and wanted him safe and happy.

Sam peeked into Dean's room, opening the door softly only a sliver. "Dean?" He called quietly, checking to see if Dean was asleep or not because otherwise, he wanted to tell Dean all about his day and how he had a test today that he got a full score on and during PE how he dodged all the dodgeballs and it was so much fun and also how the school was sending them on an ecology trip where they would go to the forest and look at plants and everything.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes and turned to look at the alarm clock by his bed. Three-thirty. Sam should be getting off the bus from school soon.

The vampire yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was still tired even though he’d slept for most of the day. He’d been out late last night hunting and he hadn’t gotten back till almost seven in the morning when he had to get Sam up for school. He hadn’t intended to be out so late but an accident on the freeway had prevented him from returning from his hunting grounds sooner.

He didn’t like leaving Sam alone all night long. Even though the house was well protected by discrete sigils, salt lines, and blessed iron fence he still worried. Dean had never forgotten the events of four years ago when the demons had tried to take Sam away from him. Or Annabelle’s warning that the spell she’d branded Sam with to keep him hidden might one day weaken enough for the demons to find them again. Even though he hadn’t seen any sign of the demons after Sam for four years, he still worried.

Unfortunately he was a vampire and still had hunters to worry about as well, so he couldn’t feed in the area. Instead he drove to various large cities, some more than five hours away from their home, to feed. The deaths would go far less noticed there than in the town he and Sam lived in. It was the only way to ensure hunters wouldn’t find them.

He was glad he at least got back soon enough to wake Sam up and send him off to school. Even though Sam was very mature and responsible for his young ten years Dean always tried to be here to send Sam to school and be awake by the time the boy got home. Dean couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought. Imagine him, the responsible parent type. Who would have thought it? Certainly not him, not in the last hundred years at least. But things had just fallen into place.

Certainly it hadn’t been easy. In fact it had been rather difficult in the beginning. Both of them learning to live with one another. Sometimes it made the early weeks when he’d first… acquired… Sam seem like a picnic. But they’d gotten through it. Even though he’d told Sam to call him his older brother in public, for the sake of ease as Sam grew older, he thought of the boy as a son. And while he’d never tried to replace John Winchester he thought Sam thought of him as a father too.

Dean heard the bus pull up outside and it wasn’t long before he heard the gate and the front door. He should probably get up so he could get Sam a snack and get him started on his homework before it got too late. Even though the boy liked school well enough it usually wasn’t an issue getting him to do his homework, sometimes the boy had the attention span of a goldfish. Sam could loose track of time watching cartoons, reading, or playing outside and Dean didn’t like Sam staying up too late on a school night.

Before he could get up however he heard Sam tiptoeing upstairs and he smiled again hearing the soft whisper at his door.

“I’m up, Sammy.” Dean reassured the boy, and patted the side of his bed in invitation for Sam to enter. 

* * *

Sam grinned when he heard Dean's voice and he quickly walked into the dark room, shuffling up onto the bed and lying down beside Dean. Sam liked Dean's room. It was the master bedroom with it's own bathroom. It was big and comfy and had this huge bed and thick curtains and it was very warm and cozy. Sam's room had a twin bed with a study desk and a bookcase and light blue curtains that Sam liked too. But Dean's room was so grown up!

"Hi, Dean," Sam said as he smiled up at the man he pretended was his older brother but was really something more than that. "Today, we had this test in science and I got full marks and the teacher gave me a gold star," Sam informed him. "I think Ms. Jones likes you. She told me to tell you that she wants to see you for PTA, but she didn't say that to anyone else in class and I know I'm not in trouble even though I did get into a fight during recess but she doesn't know about that." Sam took a deep breath and then continued, "Melissa says that Ms. Jones has a crush on you, but I don't know. She's a little bit weird so maybe it's just her weirdness. Melissa's weird too. She thinks everyone has a crush on everyone. The school's sending us on a trip to the forest and I need your signature. Can I go? _Please?_ " Sam broke out the puppy dog eyes in full force, knowing that Dean would cave.

 

*

 

Cullen had a human name once. And no, it's not a coincidence that he was named Cullen. Chicks went crazy for that shit. Put some glitter on and eyeliner and whisper things like 'I'm too dangerous', and all the women in a five mile radius got wet. Nobody had to know that _Cullen's_ real name was Herbert. No chicks got wet for _Herbert_. In fact, Cullen was fairly sure his parents hated him because why else would they name him _Herbert_?!

Anyway.

So now Cullen had an awesome thing going for him. About a year ago, he got bitten by a vampire and now he was a legit vampire himself. He had a band of vampires he had created himself, all of who happened to be just like him. A gothic girl he tried to drink from begged him to turn her and then she named herself Mystica, and then he found a couple of young vampires more, all of whom liked to go to nightclubs and wear eyeliners and drink from women who thought it was just a kink.

One thing Cullen made sure to do was never stay in one place for long... and his merry band of bloodsuckers and him had just moved into this cozy little town where he couldn't wait to cause some chaos. As fun as being mysterious and vampire-y it was, it was more fun to create so much terror and then disappear. It was like leaving a legacy. Creating a legend.

_Being_ a legend.

"Alright, peeps!" Cullen said to his followers as they stood outside a nightclub brimming with people. "It's time to take this town for ourselves!"

They headed into the club, looking dark and broody and so damn dangerous. Cullen fucking _loved_ this.

* * *

The boy didn’t waste any time hurrying into his room at the invitation and climbing into the bed beside him. Sometimes it still surprised him how much Sam enjoyed snuggling. He was like a puppy, always seeking affection, and a simple hug or ruffling of his hair always seemed to set the boy beaming like he’d just been given the greatest gift in the world. For someone that had spent the last two hundred years of his life mostly avoiding contact with the world, one would think that would have been an adjustment as well. But with Sam that affection had always seemed to come fairly naturally.

Dean smiled as he listened to the boy speak about his day at school. He wasn’t all that surprised to hear that Sam had gotten a good grade on his test, the child was amazingly bright. Sometimes too bright for his own good. But Dean was proud nonetheless that Sam did so well in school.

He couldn’t help but chuckle softly when Sam went on to tell him his theories about one of his teachers having a crush on him. Yeah, that wasn’t much of a shock either. But he would still go to Sam’s PTA anyway and endure the flirty looks because it was important to Sam.

He was a little bit more concerned when Sam admitted to getting into a fight at school. Despite the way Sam had fought him in the beginning, the boy was actually pretty level headed most of the time. It took a lot to get him going. But before he could ask Sam what the fight had been about, Sam continued, asking his permission to go on a field trip.

The pleading puppy eyed look Sam gave him made him laugh in spite of himself. Yes, he knew exactly what Sam was doing, trying to wrap him around his little finger. Too bad it usually worked.

“You can tell me about the field trip, and that fight you mentioned, while you have your snack. Then I’ll decide.” Dean replied, ruffling Sam’s hair a little before shooing him out of the bed and climbing out himself. Not bothering to change out of his pajama bottoms yet as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

As he took the jelly out of the fridge to make Sam’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich Dean couldn’t help but recall all of his early mishaps in the kitchen. He couldn’t count how many times he tried to cook dinner for Sam and ended up taking the boy out to eat or going out to fetch a happy meal for him instead. He’d even nearly burned down the house twice, thank god for fire extinguishers. But thankfully over the years he’d become much more comfortable in the kitchen. For someone who didn’t eat he was becoming a fairly good cook in his opinion.

“Alright, now tell me more about this trip.” He said as he set the plate with the sandwich down for Sam. 

* * *

Sam followed Dean down, trailing behind him as Dean led them to the kitchen. Climbing up to sit on a counter while Dean got busy pulling the jelly out of the fridge, Sam started talking.

"It was that asshole, Ricky." Sam and Ricky had a constant war going on between them. Ricky was the school bully, and he loved that he was the tallest, biggest and meanest boy in all of fifth grade. Hell, Sam barely came up to his shoulder. Some of the boys in class even wondered if Ricky had failed a year and so was actually older than the rest of them. Anyway. So Ricky had picked on Sam when Sam moved in four years ago, and when Sam had lost his temper and snapped back at him, the war had begun.

Sam's expression fell a little as he remembered what Ricky had said. "He had been telling everyone that I didn't have a daddy because my Dad hated me so much that he left me." Sam still thought of John often, remembering very little but enough to hero worship the man. He didn't remember his Dad's face, or his voice, or anything about his personality. But sometimes... when Sam was right about to fall asleep he would hear his Dad say something like 'Night, Sammy'.

"And everyone believed him! So when Melissa came and asked me if Daddy hated me, I found out Ricky was telling everyone this and so I went and broke his nose," Sam informed Dean, proud. "He was too embarrassed to actually tell the teacher I broke his nose so I got away with it."

Sam started swinging his legs, continuing to talk. "Ms. Jones said that the PTA is on Thursday after school, and that it's _imperative_ that she meet you," Sam rolled his eyes at the word. "She likes to talk like that when she wants us to know that it's important. Oh! The trip! We're going to the forest to see rocks and trees and flowers, and a teacher will teach us about what to do if we get lost in a forest and stuff. I sounds fun!"

* * *

Dean gave the boy a look, which clearly said that he didn't appreciate Sam cursing like that. He'd told the boy several times already that he shouldn't curse but it never seemed to do any good. Probably because most of the stuff Sam picked up he'd heard from Dean, and the fact that more than once the vampire couldn't help laughing when the ten year old started cursing like a sailor.

He didn't interrupt to chastise the boy now for his cursing, instead letting Sam talk and explain himself regarding the fight with the now familiar school bully. Dean couldn't really blame Sam for losing his temper. The little shit Ricky had been bothering Sam for some time now and the rumors he'd been spreading about Sam's father were hurtful and childish. But that's just how children were. Hurtful and childish.

John Winchester was a sore topic for both Dean and Sam. The story he'd told Sam to tell others was that John Winchester had been killed in a car crash. It wasn't like Sam could tell anyone the truth about how he became an orphan. That his father had been killed by the vampire who was now raising him. But the bully wasn't interested in the truth or the lie anyway, he was only interested in hurting Sam's feelings. He couldn't blame Sam for his reaction, but he couldn't condone it either.

"Sammy, what that boy did was stupid and wrong, but you can't just go around punching people either. A lot of people in this world are going to say things that might hurt you or you don't like, but you can't make them stop by using your fists. That's called assault and you can get in a lot of trouble for it. If that boy had hit you back it would have been justified, because he was protecting himself. Next time something like that happens, you tell the teacher, or you tell me and we'll take care of it. If anyone tries to hurt you physically, that's a different story, and feel free to kick their ass. Do you understand?"

Dean leaned against the counter and thought a minute before answering Sam's question regarding his field trip.

"I'll sign the permission slip. But if anything like what happened with Ricky happens again then next time the answer will be no."

* * *

Dean's gentle reprimand made Sam squirm on the countertop. He didn't want Dean to be disappointed in him, and it seemed like him fighting usually tended to do that.

Sam couldn't help it though. When someone talked like that about his father, who they didn't know anything about, it hurt Sam. He didn't want to hear it, or have anyone believe all that bullshit. His Dad didn't hate him. He loved him. Sam remembered that much.

"Okay, I won't hit him again unless he hits me first," Sam promised, but smiled when Dean agreed to sign the permission slip. Sam jumped off the countertop and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, burying his face in Dean's side. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Sam said gleefully. The field trip sounded so much fun! He couldn't wait to go.

 

*

 

_"This morning, the bodies of three women were found in the alley behind the club 'Karma'. The preliminary reports say that the bodies were exsanguinated - or drained of blood - through two holes in their necks that look like bite marks. The victims were eighteen year old Megan Smith, twenty year old Kelly Johnson and twenty-two year old Heather Lewis. Witnesses claim they saw them leave last night with three mean in heavy, gothic garb. Police is currently attempting to prepare a sketch although the details are sketchy due to many of the witnesses being intoxicated at the time," the blond newscaster spoke into the camera, a mike held in her hand. The shot cut to a middle aged, well dressed man looking worried._

_Under the man, it said 'Ed Griffin, owner of_ _Karma'. "This has never happened at the club before. We have very stringent security and we take the utmost care to make sure our patrons are safe. However once the patrons leave the club grounds, we cannot govern what they do and how they do it."_

_The newscaster questioned, "So you're claiming Karma has no responsibility in this incident?"_

_Ed answered, "None whatsoever."_

Bobby tapped the TV remote against his lip as he watched. These vampires must be pretty damn young to not know how to cover their tracks. Young and stupid... and possibly drunk on power.

As Bobby's cell rang, he glanced at it once before picking it up. "Rufus. Long time no see."

"Wanna go vampire hunting?"

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," Bobby drawled with a smile. Rufus' deep rough laugh hadn't changed at all since the last time Bobby had seen him.

* * *

Dean watched Sam closely, and nodded a little to himself when it seemed that he’d gotten his message across. The last thing they needed was for Sam to be suspended, or even expelled, from school because of fighting. Teachers, counselors, angry parents, hell, maybe even lawyers and police… they couldn’t afford that kind of attention.

When Sam hopped off the chair and rushed over to him to hug him Dean forgot all about childish bullies and their parents, and Sam’s teachers that only wanted him to go to PTA so they could ogle him. Dean laughed and hugged the boy back. Ruffling his hair a little before he shooed Sam back to his seat at the counter.

“All right. Finish up your snack now so you can start on your homework.” Dean told the boy before he left the kitchen to return upstairs to shower and get dressed.

***

By the time Dean returned downstairs the boy had already started on his homework so the vampire stayed in the living room with the television’s sound low so he wouldn’t disturb Sam. Sam was pretty damned bright and Dean encouraged the boy to try to figure things out on his own, so Dean didn’t offer to help him with his homework unless Sam really needed it.

Once the boy was done however he helped him check it over to make sure it was done right. Thankfully Sam was still young enough that Dean could understand the stuff they were teaching the boy fairly easily. Dean wasn’t sure he was looking forward to the day when he couldn’t anymore and technically Sam would be smarter than him. Sammy would probably never let him live it down. Already the boy was looking forward to being taller than him one day. Well, if nothing else it was a good way to convince Sam to eat his vegetables.

They enjoyed playing a couple video games together in the living room once Sam’s homework was checked and as usual the boy whooped every time he beat Dean and yelled loudly every time Dean ‘cheated’. It was fun, even though Dean got his ass handed to him on a fairly regular basis. He just couldn't quite get the hang of pressing the multitude of buttons in the correct combinations.

After a couple of hours Dean threw in the towel and returned to the kitchen to fix Sam’s dinner. Tonight was a chicken, rice, and broccoli casserole recipe that he’d gotten off the Internet and while it cooked it almost made Dean disappointed that he couldn’t try some himself. It smelled pretty good.

While he didn’t eat, he still sat at the table and chatted with Sam while the boy dug into his meal. It was Sam’s night to do the dishes and Dean returned to the living room to watch the news while the boy cleaned up. That’s when he saw the report on the killings outside the club, Karma, and Dean frowned darkly.

“Stupid fucking fledglings.” Dean muttered under his breath in a growl. He had worked so damned hard to keep his presence here off the grid and they weren’t even trying to cover up their actions. If a hunter turned up and killed off the fledglings there was a chance they might stick around and dig deeper. They could ruin everything.

Shutting off the television with another growl Dean got up and made his way back into the kitchen, doing his best not to look as pissed off as he was.

“Sammy, I’m going to have to go out for a few hours. You’ll need to put yourself to bed. Don’t stay up past ten, you’ve got school tomorrow, got it?” Dean told the boy, leaning up against the door jam as he made plans in his head.

He’d taken care of plenty of fledglings that had wandered into his hunting area before. Even though he would probably be outnumbered he was far older, stronger, faster, and obviously smarter, than this little nest. He wasn’t worried. He could track them easily from the club. Rip off their heads and get rid of the bodies hopefully before any hunters came around to investigate. Maybe he could even leak some news through the hunter grapevine that the vampires in the area were already taken care of.

Dean wasn’t going to let anyone or anything disturb the life he and Sam had made here. 

* * *

Sam had nearly finished cleaning up after dinner when Dean told him he was going out. Sam nodded. This wasn't anything strange or rare, in fact Dean disappeared at night from time to time, and Sam was old enough to know it was to feed. Sam didn't like to think about it because his image of Dean, the caring man who tucked him into bed and made him sandwiches and held his hand when they crossed the road, didn't mix with the image of a man with sharp teeth and red eyes who preyed on people to keep living.

It didn't make sense to him, and it had been years since Dean had flashed those red eyes or bared those sharp fangs at Sam so it was easy to forget that Dean was actually a very dangerous creature.

Finishing up, Sam went upstairs to brush his teeth and then go to bed. Even though that small part of him that got a thrill from disobeying Dean told him to stay up and run around as long as Dean didn't know, Sam was tired. He figured he'll get another chance to be disobedient and climbed into bed, falling asleep quickly.

 

*

 

Drinking blood was like taking a million hits off of a hundred joints, Cullen decided. Specially if the blood was fresh, and human, and holy fuck if it was virginal. He didn't know why but virgins just tasted so much better!

In fact, the first time he had tasted virgin blood he hadn't been able to handle it and only after a few gulps he was done, it was so rich, but his capacity for blood had increased exponentially and now he could kill a person, virgin or not, easily if he wasn't careful. Which he wasn't.

He was prowling the streets again, looking for a different club than last time that would have people interested in 'Cullen'. He figured going to any of the mainstream clubs probably wouldn't work. The chicks there didn't get quite as excited about vampires and usually gave them weird looks. In fact, he couldn't wear his gothic outfit when he went there. Even _that_ got him weird looks.

So no, he'll stick to the back alley clubs that were more underground.

Cullen and his gang found one called 'Purgatory', and just the name told him that this was the perfect place. Girls lined the outside in leather skirts and fishnets and red eyeliner and black lipstick. Hell, he didn't even have to go in. Two girls approached them, smiling and giggling and telling them they were hot.

Five minutes later, they were walking down the street towards a condemned building at the edge of town where they were hiding out for now. They were going to take their time with these ones... they were so damn willing! Hell, maybe he'll even fuck them before killing them.

* * *

Dean parked the impala a couple blocks away from the club Karma. While it wasn’t likely anyone would see the car and recognize it as his, he wasn’t going to take that chance either. The last thing he needed was anyone asking around why he was lurking around a recent murder scene.

Which was why he decided to take the ‘scenic’ route. Instead of walking to the club he climbed up a building’s fire escape and leapt from one roof to the next, his dark clothes and the fact that he was moving so fast would make him only a dark blur if anyone saw him at all.

The recent murders didn’t seem to lessen the crowd attending the club, in fact, there might even be more people from the looks of things. The police were having their hands full it seemed trying to keep people out of the alleyway where the bodies had been found. A couple of officers standing guard when simple police tape wasn’t enough to keep people out of the area.

Not the best circumstances for Dean to conduct his own investigation without being seen but thankfully he didn’t need to get all that close for what he needed. Crouching at the edge of the rooftop he closed his eyes and sniffed the air. Even with all the mortals milling about it wasn’t all that hard to pick out the scents of his own kind.

Now that he had their scent there was no way they could hide from him. Leaving the car Dean continued over the rooftops tracking the fledglings. They were still in the area. Not laying low or moving on like any vampire with an ounce of intelligence would have after making such a spectacle. They were on the hunt. Again. Dean shook his head in disgust. He would have killed them anyway for coming into his hunting ground, but the fact that they now risked exposing _him_ as well with their gluttonous power hungry stupidity… Dean had a feeling he was going to enjoy this kill.

Dean caught up with them outside another club, Purgatory this time. He rolled his eyes as he watched the fledglings walking away from the club with their prize, heading quickly to a seeder and much less populated part of town. Dean followed at a discrete distance. He would wait until they returned to their den. Kill them there. Burn the place down. No witnesses. No evidence. Not even the two foolish girls who were with them. 

* * *

Man, this chick was feisty. Cullen licked his lips as she looked coyly at him, that tiny little skirt not hiding much when she walked in front of him. Cullen knew that tonight, he was going to have some serious fun.

As soon as they reached the building, Cullen couldn't stop himself, he pushed the girl inside and pushed his hand up her skirt, feeling hot, warm skin underneath. She moaned instead of being scared and then he was leaning in, teeth bared as he bit into her neck to have a taste. He wasn't going to have her all for himself. No, he was going to share with the rest of the nest. So a taste was all he was getting for the moment, and he was in no hurry. They had the entire night, and they'll drink from the cows for as long as they could before the bitches died.

Having had a taste, Cullen pulled away and let her be dragged into the middle of the feeding frenzy. He watched as his children - God he loved calling them that. He _was_ , after all, their sire - fucked and fed and nourished themselves. God, Cullen loved this life. Smiling widely, he stood to the side, deciding that he didn't mind if he didn't get to feed tonight. There was always tomorrow, and he'd had his fill last night anyway.

 

*

 

"Ask for Walter Simmons at the Blue Motel," Rufus' voice rumbled from the phone and Bobby grunted an affirmative. "How long till you get here?"

"Wait," Bobby frowned as he started his truck. "You're already there?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Rufus answered. "How long till you get here, you bastard?"

"Ten hours if I follow the speed limit," Bobby answered.

"Alright then, I'll see you in seven."

"Asshole. I'll be there by morning," Bobby said as he ended the call and pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, leaving Singer's Salvage behind. This hunt looked pretty simple, and he didn't mind simple right now. Anything would do. For the past four years, Bobby had been on the side lines, staying at his base in case something came through on Sam Winchester. No hunter had seen him yet, but Bobby continued to hold out hope. He was sure Sam was alive... he just had no way of contacting him.

Four years since John Winchester had died and Sam Winchester had gone missing. Bobby still had dreams about that boy, wondering if he was okay or even alive. He'll never stop searching for him, but every day that passed without news, Bobby's hope of seeing him again diminished a little more.

* * *

Dean waited outside the old run down building until almost four in the morning. Waiting to see if the nest up and moved after they were done feeding, but they didn't. The vampire made a disgusted sound. Every time he thought they couldn't do something stupider, he was proved wrong.

He'd been close enough to the building that he'd heard when the screams started, though he doubted they would have been heard by human ears. It didn't matter since there weren't all that many humans around this neighborhood to begin with. At least, not any that would care if they heard someone screaming.

The screaming had lasted a couple of hours before it finally stopped. He might be a monster, but he was nothing like these vampires. He didn't make his prey suffer, he killed them quickly and with as little pain as possible. He only hunted when he needed to feed, not for pleasure. He never took pleasure in killing. It was simply a necessity.

Did that make him better than these vampires? Probably not. He was still a monster, a murderer, and he didn't give a rats ass about the victims of these predators. He only cared that these imbeciles were a danger to him, and to Sam. That he would not tolerate. For that he would rip them apart limb from limb with his bare hands. Usually he took no pleasure in killing but tonight… he would make an exception.

When Dean finally moved it was as silent as a shadow. His footsteps didn't make a sound even once he was inside the abandoned building, the floors so rotted ordinarily the slightest pressure would make them squeak like a banshee. He slipped from room to room, following the scent of the young vampires. By the sound of it they had finished their feeding long ago and were now getting ready to settle down to sleep through the day.

He came upon the first and did not hesitate, rushing the young vampire. It didn't stand a chance, he was dead before he had any idea Dean was even there. The first sound that announced his presence was the falling of the body after Dean had twisted and ripped the young vampire's head from his shoulders in one fluid motion.

It was over in a matter of minutes. As he suspected, the fledglings stood absolutely no chance against him. He’d killed two more before the shock had even worn off at his appearance. The last few had put up a fight, a pathetic one, before attempting to flee which Dean didn’t allow.

After gathering up the bodies in one room Dean went to work removing the evidence. He’d took the time to gather what few supplies he’d need during the night while he watched the building and now he poured gasoline over the bodies of the dead vampires and their victims. Dousing enough of the room that the fire would spread quickly and consume the building probably in a matter of minutes. He wondered if the firefighters would even bother trying to put the dump out or if they’d just let it burn?

After striking a book of matches Dean tossed them at the bodies, waiting just long enough to see them engulfed in flames before he left the building. He didn’t wait around to watch it burn. Instead he returned to the car and started home, pleased how easy that was. If he hurried he might even beat the morning traffic and he would get home in plenty of time to see Sam off to school.

* * *

Cullen didn't know what happened. One moment, he had been settling down, warm and full with blood, getting ready to sleep away the day before another night of partying when the smell of blood hit him. And not just any blood, but the blood of one of his children.

He sat up instantly, as did the rest of his nest, sensing something wrong. A moment later, there was blood everywhere and a man that Cullen tried very hard to run from but he just didn't have a chance. Dying a second time hurt like hell, Cullen decided. And in that split second before the man with fiery red eyes decapitated him, Cullen wished he was just Herbert again.

 

*

 

Sam dragged himself out of bed at six, bleary eyed and tired. He dragged himself through his morning rituals, and then getting dressed, and then to the kitchen to eat his cereal. The house was so quiet without Dean in it, even if Dean didn't make much noise. It still felt empty and weird and Sam was antsy. He wanted Dean back now.

He sat down on the couch at 6:30am, waiting for his bus that was supposed to come at 7. He was mostly just waiting for Dean, and not so much for the bus. He was used to seeing Dean before leaving for school, and getting a hug from him.

 

 

*

 

"Broke my back getting here, asshole," Bobby complained when Rufus finally let him inside.

"You'll thank me later," Rufus said, his expression grim. Bobby's complaints instantly evaporated and he got serious. "Two more girls went missing last night. And then there was a fire in a building just outside of town."

"You're thinking the two are connected," Bobby said. It wasn't a question.

"The fire department is working on it right now so until the fire goes out, we don't know what happened there," Rufus said. "I don't know if the two are connected... but something tells me they are."

"Alright. Since you got some sleep last night, go talk to some people and figure out what's going on. Imma take a nap," Bobby said even though he knew that's the last thing he'll do until he was sure the vampire nest was really gone.

"Lazy bastard," Rufus grumbled and Bobby didn't care as he headed to the motel office to get himself a room.

* * *

Dean pulled the impala into their garage at a quarter till seven. Damned rush hour traffic. At least he’d gotten back before the bus was set to arrive to take Sam to school. As Dean climbed out of the car he thought a moment and decided he might as well take Sam to school this morning. He might not like driving around in the daylight but since he already had been, another hour or so wasn’t going to make much of a difference.

Besides, Sam always liked it when he drove him to school. He didn’t have to leave as early, so they could probably play a few games or something before they had to go and Dean wanted to make it up to the boy for being gone all night two nights in a row.

Smiling at that thought Dean tossed his keys down on the kitchen counter and called out to Sam as he shrugged off his coat.

“Hey, Sammy. I’m home. I’m gonna get cleaned up real quick, then I’ll take you to school.” Dean said, examining the leather jacket for bloodstains. There were a few but not as much as there probably should have been given he’d decapitated several vampires with his bare hands. Dean headed down into the basement where the laundry was and threw the jacket into the pile of clothes that Sam knew not to touch. He took off the rest of his bloodied clothing down there as well, then headed upstairs to jump in the shower quickly. Just long enough to wash the blood off his skin and out of his hair before he got out, dried off, dressed, and headed back downstairs.

* * *

Sam jumped up when he heard the front door opening, and then Dean's voice made him grin widely before he settled back down on the couch. If Dean was dropping him off, then they had nearly an hour before they had to leave.  
  
"Okay, Dean!" Sam said happily, swinging his feet where he sat, switching on the TV to cartoons while he waited for Dean. When Dean headed back downstairs, Sam had been lingering near the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him. He bounced a little where he stood until Dean came down and then Sam was grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the TV. Normally, Sam didn’t have time to watch cartoons before school, but when Dean dropped him off, Sam could watch TV with Dean. He pushed Dean down on the couch and then sat next to him, his side pressed against Dean’s while he watched a grumpy duck get into all sorts of shenanigans.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but smile when he saw Sam waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, then laughed when the boy grabbed him and practically dragged him into the living room. He swore he didn’t know where Sam got all of his energy from, especially this early in the morning. If Dean wasn’t a vampire he wasn’t sure how he’d keep up with him.

When Sam sat down beside him Dean smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. It was getting long again. He should probably take the boy to the mall soon to get it cut. They could make a day of it. Have lunch. Do a bit of shopping. Sam loved the book store and not surprisingly the toy store. They could spend hours in either store, though Dean sometimes suspected the boy enjoyed the book store more. Sam had discovered pretty quickly that the vampire was a pushover and could rarely refuse the boy something he wanted when Sam flashed those ‘puppy eyes’ at him. Dean honestly didn’t mind buying Sam whatever he wanted, as long as it was within reason.

It wasn’t as though they were hurting for money. In fact, with the amount of money Dean had amassed over the centuries spread over several bank accounts he could live very comfortably for several lifetimes without needing to work at all. Dean knew better than to call attention to his wealth however, because that would call attention to him as well. So he and Sam lived modestly, and Dean even held down a job that was more of a hobby and for appearances sake than anything else, working from home at night on the computer.

“Did you sleep all right?” Dean asked. Sometimes Sam had bad nightmares during the night and it was one of the many reasons the vampire hated leaving the boy alone at night. If Dean didn’t have to feed, or… take care of things like he had last night, he would never leave Sam alone. 

* * *

Sam nodded at Dean's question, looking up at him and smiling in answer.

"I was tired," Sam said by way of explanation. When Sam was tired, he usually slept deeply. Sam didn't get nightmares often, but when he did they tended to be bad. They were usually a jumble of horrible things. People dying, things chasing him, blood everywhere. He was sure they were just memories from when Dad used to hunt and leave Sam behind and sometimes things came for Sam while Dad wasn't there... so maybe the nightmares would eventually stop as Sam got older?

Last night, though, his dream had been a little different.

"I saw Uncle Bobby last night," Sam said. He hadn't mentioned Bobby in a while, not since they had settled down. Sam had no desire to go running to Uncle Bobby anymore, even if he did sometimes think of the kind man with the worn cap. "He was coming to see us, and there was this other man with him but I don't know who he was. They were coming to visit us but I woke up before they got here," Sam said, shifting so that he was resting his head on Dean's lap as he continued to watch cartoons.

It was moments like these that Sam felt completely at ease with what their life had become. He loved how Dean took care of him, and in fact he had grown to love the man as well. When at first it had been a little difficult with Sam thinking about his Dad and Uncle Bobby and everything, slowly Sam realized just how much Dean did for him and their relationship got stronger. Now, Dean may not be his father or brother or uncle or whoever, but for Sam he had become family. In fact, now that Sam considered it, he was sure that there was nothing more he could really ask for. Other than having his Dad back, but sometimes he wondered if his Dad had still been alive, would Sam have been safe and warm in a room that was actually _his_ or if he would have been in another motel room in some random state?

* * *

Dean nodded and returned Sam’s smile when the boy confirmed he had slept well without nightmares. The boy didn’t get them very often, thank god, but when he did… It was bad enough when he was here and Sam had a nightmare, the thought of Sam having one when he wasn’t here scared the hell out of him.

It had only happened once. He’d been gone for the night feeding. It had only taken him a few hours but when he came back he’d gone to check on Sam like he always did and found the boy’s room empty. He’d called out for Sam but there had been no answer and the vampire began to panic.

Thankfully with his extra sharp vampire senses he’d been able to find Sam rather quickly, huddled in Dean’s bedroom closet, but it had still been nerve wracking. He could smell the boy’s fear but he didn’t know if Sam was hurt or not. It had taken him an hour to coax the boy out, every time he tried to touch Sam the boy had screamed, like he was still caught in his night terror.

When Sam finally seemed to realize it was him though Sam practically choked him when the boy threw his arms around him and wouldn’t let him go for hours. Dean never wanted a repeat of that night. Seeing Sam so afraid and not being able to comfort him. From his home office he could usually hear if Sam’s sleep grew disturbed and he could wake the boy up before the dreams got too bad. If they were too bad he’d just let Sam stay up the night with him and let him stay home from school the next day to rest.

The dreams seemed to happen less and less often and Dean hoped that one day they would stop entirely. Sometimes Dean wondered if it was normal for children to have such vivid nightmares. But even if they weren’t, Sam wasn’t exactly a normal child. His father had been a hunter. Exposed to kinds of evil most people didn’t know existed. And Dean couldn’t forget that Sam somehow had demon blood inside of him.

So when Sam mentioned the strange dream he had last night Dean frowned a little in thought. Sam hadn’t mentioned ‘uncle’ Bobby in years. Now all of a sudden Sam dreams of the man the night Dean takes care of a stupid nest of fledgling vampires. Dean never believed in coincidences. Were hunters already on their way here?

Maybe… it was already too late. Maybe he should take Sam and run. Dean didn’t want to do that. They’d built a good life here, but he wasn’t going to risk anyone coming and taking Sam away from him. Or maybe he was jumping to conclusions. It was only a dream. A child’s dream. Dean had taken care of the nest. There was nothing leading back to him even if a hunter did come. Maybe he would check around. Discretely. Find out if there were any hunters in the area. If something seemed amiss, then he’d make plans to leave with Sam.

“That is a strange dream.” Dean finally agreed as he ran his fingers through Sam’s hair while they watched cartoons together. 

* * *

Later that night, Rufus entered the motel room looking haggard but excited.

"I suppose you found something?" Bobby asked as he was looking at a computer screen, reading a news article about the three women killed two days ago.

Rufus dropped a stack of papers onto the table next to Bobby's laptop with a grin. "One of those girls, Megan Smith, went to All Saints Secondary School, yeah?" Rufus said as he sat down across from Bobby. "I went to talk to her parents, and found out that Megan hadn't been alone when she had gone to that club that night. She had gone with her friend, Ashley..."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "A witness?"

Rufus shrugged. "I asked the parents if I could have Ashley's contact information but they didn't know her last name. Said she was a new friend and they hadn't met her. So I assumed the two went to the same school and I decided to get Ashley's contacts from the school."

"I'd imagine there are a lot of Ashleys in that school," Bobby grumbled before looking at the papers in front of him.

"Fifteen... and I doubt we want to go meet all of them..." Rufus said but he was still grinning. Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Page two, highlighted name."

Bobby looked carefully at the list for the first time. It was not a list for All Saints Secondary School but instead for All Saints Primary school.

"Turns out, Ashley had a brother in primary, named Jacob. I decided to cross reference the last names, trying to find the right one," Rufus said and Bobby turned to the second page, looking at the highlighted name.

All the blood in Bobby's body grew cold as he read the name. Then it started flowing again and excitement made his heart pound. "You're sure about this?"

"He's ten years old, in fifth grade. The right age." Rufus smiled widely, reaching into his bag for another paper, this one with a photograph and details on it. "Samuel Winchester. He's a smart kid, apparently. He joined four years ago, a little after he went missing and... there's little mistaking that mop of hair, yeah?" Rufus showed the paper to Bobby who took it with trembling hands.

Sam's hazel eyes peeked out from behind brown bangs, and Bobby knew there was no mistaking it.

"You found Sam..." Bobby whispered and Rufus' continued to grin.

"He looks well taken care of..." Rufus said. "He might have gotten adopted, alright? So let's not make waves."

Bobby nodded, looking down at the paper still. "I want to meet his parents. Make sure he's okay... god, I missed that boy."

"It's late now," Rufus said looking at the clock, "unless you want to extend a warm feeling to his caretakers by staking out their house all night...?"

Bobby smiled but he was unable to look away from the picture on the paper. "Let's go tomorrow."

"And in the meantime, let's figure out what just happened in this town!" Rufus said as he pulled out his phone, calling for pizza delivery.

* * *

After Dean dropped Sam off to school that morning instead of going to sleep as he normally did during the day the vampire got to work. He’d lived long enough to have some experience when dealing with hunters. He knew how to hide his tracks so that he could live for years in one area without being noticed by even the most experienced of hunters. And he also knew how a lot of hunters operated to keep a look out for any hunters that might have caught onto his trail. He would much rather avoid hunters than fight them, and get out of dodge before they had the chance to zero in on him.

John Winchester had been the first hunter in a long time that had gotten close enough to him without Dean noticing that he'd been forced to kill the man. Sam hadn’t told him much about Bobby Singer, but from what the boy had told him he knew that Sam wasn’t really his nephew, just a friend of his father’s. He also knew that the man was definitely a hunter. If Sam’s ‘uncle’ Bobby was anywhere near as good as Sam’s father had been then the hunter could cause him lot of trouble.

The best way to catch a hunter was to think like a hunter. If any hunters were in the are then they would be following the trail of the fledglings, but their investigation would take a different path than Dean’s had even if the destination was the same. Therefore Dean needed to follow that path. He needed to find out what the police knew. He needed to find out about the victims. He needed to see if anyone was asking questions only a hunter would ask.

He could also start calling the local hotels. Any hunter worth his salt wouldn’t be using their real name or identification but Dean had a description of Bobby Singer. He also had Sam’s description of the other man from his dream… if Sam’s dream was more than a dream… it shouldn’t be too hard to find out if two men matching those descriptions were staying at a motel in the area. It would just take time.

So that’s what Dean did all day while Sam was at school. He searched the Internet for any information he could find, from news reports to rumors through the social network about the killings and the victims. He made a lot of phone calls. To the police, to the local press, to the coroner’s office, posing as different sources, trying to get any extra information he could that might not have made it into the papers yet. Lying wasn’t exactly a problem for Dean but it wasn’t easy convincing people he was who he was over the phone. He’d rather not show his face unless he needed to. He’d lived in this area for two long, too much of a risk someone would recognize him. He also made calls to a lot of the local motels and was more than ready for a break when Sam finally came home from school.

So far Dean hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary and he’d begun to relax a little. Maybe Sam’s dream really was just a dream and Dean was overreacting. But he’d rather overreact then be caught off guard. 

* * *

It was nearly two when Sam woke up from a nightmare. It was an old favorite of his, with blood everywhere and eyes looking at him and at some point, he drank the blood that was filled with black smoke and it tasted disgusting and it made him fill with smoke too and then, suddenly, Sam had black eyes and he just...

Darting out of bed because he could still see blood covering the walls, Sam burst into Dean's office and threw his arms around the vampire, his breathing short and rapid.

"Had a nightmare," Sam explained softly, just glad that Dean was here. Dean always made the nightmares go away. This nightmare was the one he had the most often. The one of him drinking blood tainted with black smoke, and everything was red, not just from blood but just _red_. In another one of his nightmares, he saw the yellow eyed demon calling him 'son' and he was in a room looking out to a city that was burning with flames so high that he couldn't see the sky.

Sam didn't tell Dean the details of his nightmares. At first, it had been because he was too freaked out to think about it again, but slowly he started feeling strange about these dreams he had, like this was something that he should be afraid of... something that Dean would think he was a freak for.

Having night terrors was okay. People had them. But explaining that his night terrors had a pattern to them that was all about blood and demons and cities on fire? Maybe not a good idea to talk about them.

"Can I stay here with you?" Sam asked, voice still quiet and his face buried in Dean's shoulder, even though he knew Dean would say yes.

***

Across town, Bobby closed his laptop and books and lay down to sleep, but couldn't stop wondering if maybe tomorrow will be the day he gets to see Sam for the first time in four years, and if the boy still remembered him even.

* * *

Dean was in the middle of reading some police reports on his computer that he’d finally managed to obtain after paying a hacker quite a bit of money to acquire them for him. He’d been a little bit engrossed, jotting down names of witnesses, family members of the victims, even names of officials working the case, since one of them might be an alias a hunter was using. He’d have to check up on all of them, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Research definitely wasn’t a favorite past time of his, but at least it was a little more interesting than his regular ‘job’ he was currently blowing off to do this.

He was so engrossed with his task he didn’t even hear the rapid young heartbeat from the room down the hall, or even the running footsteps, until his office door burst open. Dean turned around in surprise just in time to receive an armful of a very frightened little boy.

Research completely forgotten Dean turned his attention fully to Sam. Pulling the boy into his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around the trembling form.

“It’s all right. I’m here.” The vampire whispered soothingly, running his hand up and down the boy’s back in an effort to calm and comfort. It had been some months since Sam had a nightmare this bad. That left him trembling in the vampire’s arms, and Dean was very glad that if it had to happen it was tonight instead of last night.

“Of course.” Dean agreed immediately when Sam asked if he could stay with him tonight. Depending on how long it took Sam to calm down and if the boy got back to sleep, he’d probably call the school in the morning and let them know Sam was staying home.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The vampire always offered even though sometimes Sam didn’t want to, and Dean couldn’t really blame him. Who would actually want to relive such terrors, after all? But if Sam wanted to talk, he would listen. 

* * *

As much as Sam didn't like talking about his dreams, he _had_ told Dean about the blood ones. They were the most common, although he hadn't told Dean about the fact that he often saw himself with his eyes entirely black or with yellow eyes. He didn't want to say it. He remembered the demons from four years ago, the way their eyes had gone inky black and he could never forget the hauntingly yellow eyes of the demon that had killed his mother.

He dreamed about that demon often too, and he didn't want to. He wanted to have nothing to do with demons.

"There was blood everywhere," Sam whispered and he said nothing more. He also hadn't told Dean how he often saw himself drinking that blood. A few months ago, Sam had the most vivid and terrifying dream yet in which he stood tall and proud next to the yellow eyed demon, the bodies of several other people lying around him. He had been _proud_ in his dream. He had been the chosen one. The last survivor.

He hadn't told Dean about that one either.

Sam sat there for a few moments more, letting Dean's presence and strong arms calm him down. Eventually, the horror of the dream faded but the desire for more sleep didn't come, so Sam squirmed so that he could turn around in Dean's lap. He was now sitting with his back to Dean's chest and facing the table. Curious, he looked at the papers.

"Oh," Sam said as he noticed the picture of a young blonde girl. "That's Max's sister," Sam said, pointing at the picture. "She died. They told us in school. Max hasn't come to class in two days. Ms. Jones is worried about him." Sam knew Megan by face if not by name because he often saw her come to pick Max up from school at the end of the day. Sam wasn't friends with Max, but then again he wasn't really friends with many people. Young children are cruel, and even more cruel to someone who's not normal. Sam was absolutely not normal, even though he tried to pretend, but guys like Ricky made sure Sam didn't fit in. Sam didn't care. Dean was his best friend and he didn't care about anyone else.

* * *

Sam’s answer when the boy finally decided to tell him about the dream didn’t really surprise Dean. From the brief talks they’d had about Sam’s nightmares it seemed to be a common theme among them. Dean didn’t push the boy to tell him any more, he simply hugged him a little tighter, nodding in understanding.

At times like these the vampire couldn’t help but wonder if Sam had these terrible nightmares because of him. He knew the boy wasn’t afraid of him. But that didn’t mean that Sam wasn’t afraid of what he _was_ at least on a subconscious level.

Dean killed people and drank their blood. Dean was a monster, the same monster that had killed the boy’s father and terrified Sam when they first met. Was it any shock then that Sam had such horrible nightmares about blood and death? Dean liked to blame John Winchester himself, for exposing Sam to the life of a hunter, the life of nightmares, when the boy was so young. Dean wished he could blame the demons that’d been after Sam all those years ago. But that didn’t mean Dean wasn’t to blame as well.

He just didn’t know what to do about it. Dean couldn’t change what he was. He couldn’t send Sam to therapy, they would just think the boy was crazy. But Dean knew he had to do something because he hated seeing Sam like this. Even though the frequency of the nightmares had lessened they still haunted Sam.

The vampire was still contemplating what he could do as he listened to Sam’s heartbeat slow to a more natural rhythm. The scent of panic in the air lessening and finally fading all together. When Sam started squirming in his lap Dean relaxed his hold but he wasn’t all that surprised when Sam just readjusted himself. The boy was a notorious cuddler. He tightened his arms around Sam again, resting his chin on top of the boy’s head, still a little lost in his own thoughts when the boy spoke again.

Dean cursed softly, realizing he’d forgotten all about the reports on his desk. But at least the crime scene photos weren’t readily visible. As if Sam didn’t have enough nightmares… then he started paying attention to what Sam was actually saying. He recognized one of the victims. The sibling of a boy that went to Sam’s school…

Alarm bells started going off in the back of Dean’s mind. Next of kin. How had Dean missed that? Because the boy was only in grade school, he wouldn’t know anything about the attack, Dean hadn’t bothered to check any further than that. But what if a hunter did for some reason? The boy went to the same school Sam went to. Ordinarily it wouldn’t matter but this hunter knew Sam personally.

It was a long shot. Just like this whole thing was. Based on nothing more than a boy’s dream and Dean’s own paranoia. So far Dean hadn’t found any evidence there were any hunters in the area… but was he willing to take that chance? Do nothing? When there was a clear lead from the vampire attack back to him and Sam?

Dean had run before on a whole lot less.

“Sammy… I’m sorry, but I think we need to go away for a while. Something is happening in this town and I don’t know if it will affect us. But to be on the safe side, we need to leave. I want you to go to your room and pack whatever you want to take with you. Hopefully in a few days, after I’ve checked some things out, we’ll be able to come back. But we might have to leave for good. Do you understand?” Dean said softly, his voice serious and laced with regret.

* * *

Yeah alright so Bobby told him to leave 'Dean Winchester' and Sam alone. Clearly the guy was taking care of Sam and they'll go see them tomorrow anyway...

But Rufus didn't have Bobby's patience. Rufus didn't have patience at all. And he had a stubborn bone the size of Texas in him. So he was staking the house Sam was supposed to be in. It was a nice house. A simple two story affair with a decent front lawn and everything was well cared for. Nothing sinister about it.

Right about until 3 am, Rufus had started thinking Bobby had been right and he was just wasting his time out here... and then there was activity in the house. Lights going on, shadows moving past windows. It was three in the damn morning! And Sam was only ten years old... what were they up to?

Maybe Sam wanted a midnight snack? Happened sometimes with young kids...

Except that about half an hour or so afterwards, the garage door opened and Rufus saw Sam - It really _was_ Sam! - dragging a duffel to the shining black monster of a car Rufus would recognize anywhere. After all, it had been John Winchester's trademark. So this man, 'Dean', took John's car and his son _and_ his name?

Rufus didn't have an explanation for that, but he couldn't think of anything that wasn't suspicious. Slowly getting out of the car, Rufus kept his hands free of weapons because he was going to go talk to a ten year old boy, not a man.

"Hey, Sam," Rufus said as he came closer and Sam took in a deep breath, flattening himself against the car side with surprise. "No, no, don't be scared. I'm not here to hurt you. I work with your Uncle Bobby..."

Sam kept staring at him in the dim lighting of the garage until his eyes widened. _This was the man he had seen in his dream with Bobby!_

__"You really were coming to visit!" Sam said, smiling wide and Rufus frowned even as he nodded. He had no idea what Sam was saying, but clearly Sam believed him.

"I was wondering if I could talk to Dean?" Rufus asked but Sam was already running towards the house, calling for Dean with barely contained excitement in his voice.

* * *

Maybe it was overkill sneaking out like this in the middle of the night, but both him and Sam were awake anyway so they might as well beat the traffic out of town. If Sam got tired in a couple of hours he could always sleep in the car while Dean drove.

The vampire had expected more of a protest from Sam however. From what little he knew of the boy’s life from before Dean started taking care of him one thing Sam hated was always moving around. Maybe it was Dean’s promise that they could come back in a little while if they could that had Sam agreeing to leave so easily. But the vampire certainly wasn’t complaining that Sam wasn’t putting up a fit or questioning him endlessly on why they had to leave.

As Sam packed his things in his room, Dean did the same. They would have to leave much of their things behind. That was a given. While the car, formerly owned by John Winchester, which Dean kept because he’d liked it so much, was surprisingly roomy it wasn’t meant for moving, that’s for sure. But there wasn’t really anything in the home that Dean couldn’t replace.

He just had to make extra sure not to leave anything behind that could be used to trace him or Sam. He’d done it before, and would probably have to do it again and again. It was part of the whole package of being a vampire, and constantly hunted. While it was a shame they had to leave after living in this home only four years, it wasn’t anything Dean was unused to.

The vampire was going through the files he’d collected on the fledglings killings, putting them into a box to take with him so he could continue his research when he heard Sam calling him. The boy sounded excited, not distressed, but the surprise of it was enough to kick Dean’s adrenaline up a notch. It was enough to make him pay more attention. To hear the heartbeat of the stranger. His scent…

Dean dropped what he was doing and ran down the stairs, nearly colliding with the boy at the bottom. He pulled Sam behind him protectively at the same time as Dean saw the man enter the kitchen through the garage, having followed the boy in. He recognized the man from Sam’s description in his dream. The vampire’s eyes flashed and his fangs descended.

The vampire attacked. Rushing the man in practically a blur. He knew better than to wait for a hunter to make the first move. The man wouldn’t be here, now, in the middle of the fucking night if he didn’t already suspect something. He wasn’t going to give the man a chance to gain the upper hand.

If the shock Dean saw on the man’s face was any indication before it was replaced by pain when the vampire hit him like a freight train the hunter hadn’t been expecting to face a vampire. Well, that was his first mistake. And his last. Dean pinned the man to the ground, baring his fangs, ready to rip out the dazed hunter’s throat. 

* * *

Rufus hadn't expected a vampire. A fucking _vampire_. Sam was being taken care of by a vampire?! Even as the vampire raced towards him and hit him hard, causing him to lose his breath and fall to the floor, Rufus was wondering if they had been too late and Sam wasn't human anymore... Rufus barely managed to bring an arm up, his forearm pressed against Dean's throat to keep the vampire's sharp fangs as far away from him as possible.

"Dean! Stop!" Sam yelled, scared when Dean attacked the hunter. "He's Uncle Bobby's friend!" Sam rushed to his side, grabbing Dean around the waist and trying to pull him off of the other man. "Dean! Stop!" Sam yelled again and again, pulling hard on Dean's waist while Rufus looked up at Dean with eyes narrowed in pain and anger.

John Winchester had died while hunting a vampire.

A vampire had taken his name, his car, and his son.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that meant. All Rufus had to figure out now was whether Sam was still human or not. His actions afterwards depended entirely on that fact.

"Please, don't hurt him..." Sam begged, arms still wrapped tightly around Dean's waist while Rufus continued to try and push Dean off, but the vampire was strong and heavy.

* * *

Dean’s eyes glowed red with anger. Rows of sharp fangs bared for the kill. The man had one arm up, pressed against his neck in a vain attempt to keep the vampire from ripping out his throat. Dean had his other arm pinned uselessly against the floor. There was no way for the man, hunter or not he was only human, to overpower him. Dean was just too strong. It should have been over in seconds.

If not for Sam.

Sam shouting at him, fear in his voice, but it wasn’t for Dean. It was for the man Dean was about to kill. Sam’s arms around him, pulling weakly at him, no way for the small boy to budge him but he tried anyway. Tried to keep Dean from killing the man beneath him. Begging him not to.

Dean knew better than to keep a hunter alive that was on to him. That knew who he was. Knew his name. Knew his face. One who would have surely behead him without a second thought if given the chance. Dean knew better than to give him that chance. To let him go so he could have that chance again.

But could he really rip out the man’s throat, kill him right in front of Sam, while the boy begged him not to? Was he that much of a monster?

Dean made his decision.

Pulling back his fist Dean hit the man hard across the face. Dean had ripped the heads off fledgling vampires with his bare hands. He definitely could have caved in the man’s skull, killing him instantly, with one blow. Instead Dean only used a fraction of his strength. Just enough to knock the man out without killing him.

When the hunter went limp beneath him, Dean let him go. Growling angrily before forcing his fangs to retract and his eyes to return to normal.

“We have to go, Sam. Now!” The vampire said urgently, picking Sam up and carrying him to the car because he couldn’t deal with any possible protest right now. He had no idea how long the man would be unconscious. It could be a few minutes or a few hours. Dean and Sam needed to be long gone by then. 

* * *

"No!" Sam yelled when Dean knocked Rufus out. "Why are you hurting him?! Stop it!" Sam kept yelling even when the hunter lay immobile on the ground. Sam's cheeks were streaked with tears, terrified that the man was dead.

When Dean grabbed him and lifted him up, Sam struggled for the first time in four years. In the entire time he had been living with Dean, when the vampire picked him up, Sam went limp because usually there was good reason for Dean to carry him. This time, Sam had no intention of making this easy for him.

"He was Bobby's friend!" Sam yelled, struggling and generally making it as difficult as possible for the vampire to carry him. "And you hurt him! Why did you hurt him?! PUT ME DOWN!" Sam ended the questions with a high pitched scream. He hadn't thrown a tantrum this huge in years, and he felt like he was back to being six years old and fighting Dean about everything. He pushed at Dean's chest, leaning as far away from Dean as possible and hoping to unbalance the vampire enough into letting him go.

* * *

Even though Dean had been expecting it, he still hadn’t expected Sam to fight him this much. To scream, twist, and hit him like he had in the beginning. Like when Dean had first picked the boy up and carried him out of the motel room. Like when he’d been nothing more than a monster to the boy. The monster kidnapping him.

And Dean did something he never thought he’d do. That maybe he should have done all those years ago.

He stopped and he put Sam down. He let the boy go and took a step back.

“He is a hunter, Sam. I’m a vampire. The second he found out what I was, he would have tried to kill me. That’s what they do. That’s what they always do.” Dean said softly, his voice strangely calm even though his heart felt like it was being twisted out of his chest slowly.

“I’m a monster. I’ll always be a monster. I can’t change what I am. They will always try to find me. They will always try to kill me. Just like your father did.” Dean paused for a moment, looking back at the unconscious man then turning to Sam once again.

“You don’t have to come with me. You can stay here. With them. It would probably be better… for you.” Dean paused again when his voice broke slightly but forced himself to continue.

“Or you can come with me. It’s your choice, Sam. But you have to make it now. I’m sorry.”

* * *

Sam stared with wide eyes as Dean gave him a choice. He could leave with the hunters... or stay with Dean...

Why couldn't he have both?

Sam's face twisted with misery and then large, fat tears started rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want to leave Dean. He liked Dean! But he wanted to see Uncle Bobby too and be able to meet him and hang out with him.

Crying softly, Sam went to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean's hips and burying his face in Dean's belly. "I want both," Sam mumbled miserably. "I want to stay with you and be able to see Uncle Bobby and sometimes we would go to Uncle Bobby's place and stay there and play with Rumsfeld..."

Resting his chin on Dean's belly, Sam looked up at him. "Why can't I have both? What if I ask Uncle Bobby not to hurt you? I like you, so they'll like you too..."

In the kitchen, Rufus groaned, confused as he turned to his side in an attempt to get his hands under him, but his head throbbed in response and he groaned again, this time in pain. Looking around the kitchen, Rufus remembered what had happened and he grabbed the knife he hid in his boot before standing up shakily. He dialed Bobby, put the speaker on mute and then headed towards where he could hear voices. Hopefully Bobby will hear what's going on and come by to back him up.

Sam was hugging the vampire, looking miserable, but there was also worry and... _love_?... in Dean's eyes. It made Rufus stop for a moment... but only for a moment.

Lifting his knife, Rufus knew he wasn't prepared to take on a vampire, but he wasn't going to give him a chance to run with Sam.

"I suggest you let the boy go before someone gets hurt here," Rufus growled and Sam turned to look at him, eyes widening at the knife Rufus was holding.

"Please don't hurt Dean," Sam said quietly, letting go of Dean to turn and face the hunter. He stood in between Rufus and Dean like he could protect the vampire and the hunter from each other if they decided to kill each other. "Dean takes care of me and I love him," Sam whispered, cheeks still wet with tears and Rufus' decision to kill Dean wavered for a brief moment.

"Get away from him, Sam," Rufus said instead and Sam shook his head, stepping closer to Dean but still keeping an eye on Rufus. "You wanna go see Uncle Bobby, right? Uncle Bobby has missed you so much... he'll take real good care of you."

"Can Dean come with me?" Sam asked and Rufus sighed.

"Dean's a mons-"

"He's a good vampire! He doesn't hurt good people!" Sam turned to Dean. "Tell him you're a good vampire, Dean! You're a good vampire!" Sam turned to Rufus again. "He's a GOOD vampire!" It was like if he kept repeating it, Rufus will believe him. "And he likes me and I like him and I don't want Dean to g-go away..." Sam's voice broke at the end as more tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn't want to leave Dean... he really didn't.

* * *

The way Sam was looking at him, so young, so confused, so innocent… and so sad… broke Dean’s heart. When the boy actually started crying in front of him Dean felt his own eyes beginning to burn but he held back his own tears forcibly. He wasn’t going to do anything that might sway Sam one way or another. This time, it had to be Sam’s choice whether or not to come with him. He owed Sam that much.

However when Sam suddenly hugged him tightly there wasn’t anything that could have stopped him from hugging the boy back. Especially when it might be the last time Dean could do so.

How could he explain to the child that what he wanted was impossible?

He never got the chance to. The hunter was awake and back on his feet. Unsteady as hell, but still on his feet. It was all Dean could do not to laugh sarcastically at the man’s threats. He’d never stand a chance against Dean in his current condition in a fight, and they both knew it. If push came to shove Dean would kill the man, even if he had to rip out the man’s throat in front of the boy. The vampire wasn’t just going to roll over and die.

Dean growled dangerously at the human, but before either of them could make a move, Sam was standing between them. Begging the man not to kill him just like Sam had begged him not to kill the hunter.

Sam’s innocent words as he protested that Dean was a _good_ vampire made Dean feel like he’d been kicked in the gut. Such innocent naivete, like only a child could possess. Like children that still believed in Santa Clause or the Easter Bunny, and if Sam really thought that was what Dean was, then it was just as much a lie.

Dean knew what he had to do, even if it was like ripping out his own heart.

“Sam… I’m not good. I told you. I’m a monster. I killed your father. I’ve killed a lot of fathers in my life. I’ve killed a lot of mothers too. I’ve killed brothers and sisters. I even killed that girl you saw the picture of.” Dean said softly, his voice devoid of all emotion. Yes, the last part was a lie, but that didn’t mean Dean wouldn’t have done it if she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. “People are only food to me. Nothing else.”

Then Dean stepped away from Sam, edging closer to the open garage door, but keeping a sharp eye on the hunter as well.

“You should go with your own kind, Sam.” 

* * *

Sam shook his head, refusing to believe Dean. Dean was not a bad vampire. He didn't hurt people. He took care of Sam, didn't he? He had hugged him and held him during nightmares and kissed his cheeks when Sam was a good boy. Dean was not a bad vampire, he was a good person.

_“People are only food to me. Nothing else.”  
_  
That made Sam stop for a moment. "You're lying," Sam pointed out even as his sobs increased in intensity. "You like me. I'm not food to you." Sam started stepping towards Dean when Rufus reached out quickly, grabbing Sam's hand and gently pulling him back.

"Come with us, Sam," Rufus said softly, tugging at him when Sam stopped and started reaching for Dean. "He's a vampire. He kills people to keep living himself... he's not a good person."

"I'm not food to him!" Sam said vehemently. "He likes me! Dean? You like me, right?" Sam asked, wanting to show Rufus how much Dean loved him. Maybe then Rufus and Dean would get along because once Rufus saw that Dean loved him, then he would know that Dean can't be a bad person. "He's a good person and he likes me!"

* * *

The last thing Dean wanted to do was destroy the boy’s trust in him. To leave Sam behind… But this wasn’t about what Dean wanted. This was about what was best for Sam. Dean never should have taken Sam out of that motel room. He’d used the excuse of the demons finding Sam to justify keeping the boy with him all this time. He’d never lied to Sam about what he was, but he’d never told the boy the complete, grotesque, painful, truth.

He’d hoped to have this discussion with Sam years from now. When the boy was older. When the boy could understand what he was. But it was too late for that now.

He wasn’t going to let Sam get hurt because of him. He wasn’t going to let Sam stand in front of him, protecting him, thinking he was a good man… when that was the last thing Dean was.

Dean had killed the boy’s father. Dean had kidnapped Sam. Dean was a monster and he always would be. If it wasn’t these hunters, then others would eventually find him. Come to kill him. Those hunters wouldn’t care enough to stop when Sam stood in front of them, trying to protect him. He wasn’t going to let the boy get hurt or killed trying to protect a monster.

When the hunter grabbed the boy when Sam tried to approach him, Dean growled but he didn’t try to intervene. It was for the best, he kept telling himself.

Dean smiled softly at the boy.

“Goodbye, Sammy.” Dean said before he turned and ran out the garage door. He could steal a car. Change his name. Disappear. He’d done it a thousand times. He’d do it a thousand more. Alone. As always. The way it should be. 

* * *

When Dean ran out of the house and out of the garage, Sam's sobbing turned into shrieking as Rufus grabbed him, pulling him close until the vampire disappeared.

Sam kept calling out for Dean, begging him to come back but Rufus held onto him tightly, turning the boy so that he was crying into Rufus' shoulder instead of looking out of the garage.

Barely a few minutes later, a truck pulled up into the driveway and Bobby got out, machete in hand. Rufus picked Sam up and walked out of the house, explaining what had happened while Sam stayed limp in Rufus's hold.

"Hey, Sammy," Bobby said gently, reaching out to push Sam's bangs off his face. "Remember me?"

"Dean left me," Sam whispered, so damn sad and Bobby's heart broke for him. "He'll come back, right?"

Bobby sighed as Rufus handed Sam over. Sam came to Bobby willingly and the old hunter held Sam tightly, rubbing his back and trying to soothe. "Let's go back to my place, Sam. Remember Rumsfeld? He missed you so much."

"Can Dean come too?" Sam asked and Bobby looked at Rufus who shook his head.

"Let's get you some food and rest, how about that, Sammy?" Bobby asked but Sam didn't answer. "Remember your old room? You can stay there. I'll take care of ya, kiddo."

It was nearly morning by the time Bobby and Rufus picked up as much of Sam's stuff as they could, including a teddy bear Sam called 'Piratey' that made him burst into tears all over again but he also refused to let it go. With Sam curled up in the backseat of the truck with a blanket and the teddy bear, Bobby headed for South Dakota.

Rufus stayed behind, opting for tracking Dean and seeing if he could finish him off. The vampire was clearly dangerous, and the fact that Sam was so attached to him made him even more dangerous. Secondly, the last thing he wanted was for Dean to come back for Sam.


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken Dean nearly six months to throw the hunter off of his trail. Normally if a hunter was that fucking persistent the vampire would have just killed him. But every time Dean was tempted to he'd recall Sam begging him not to kill 'uncle Bobby's friend'. He'd remember how the boy insisted over and over that he was a 'good' vampire and Dean just couldn't do it.  


  
So instead Dean kept moving. He never stayed in one place longer than a week, stealing new cars or replacing the license plates even more often. He usually tried keeping to big cities where he would be the most anonymous, traveling all across the country, even crossing the borders into Canada or Mexico a few times. Sometimes he went more than a month without feeding and when he did it was off bums in the street or he made it look like the killing was an accident. He even went through a couple areas where he knew there were other vampire nests holed up, hoping to divert the hunter's attention off of him.

Basically he did everything and anything to throw the hunter off of his scent. Eventually it worked, but even then Dean found he couldn't settle down.

It had been years since he felt this… restless. Like there was something missing from his life. He knew exactly what that something was too, and there was nothing he could do about it. For two hundred years he'd lived alone but he'd never been lonely. Now he couldn't go more than a few hours without thinking of Sam and regretting what he'd done. Even if it was for the best.

Some days Dean even had the insane urge to go looking for the boy. Just to make sure he was doing ok, or so Dean told himself. Sam had told him enough about the other hunter, Bobby Singer, that it wouldn't have been too difficult for Dean to track them down. Which was why Dean refused to let himself. The temptation to actually go see Sam would be too much to ignore then, and Dean wasn't suicidal.

Even if some days it felt like life wasn't worth living.

Dean sighed heavily to himself, hating his melancholy thoughts. He wasn't one to wallow in self-pity, but he didn't seem capable of doing anything else. It had been six years since he left Sam in the care of the hunters and it both felt like an eternity and like only yesterday.

He was supposed to be hunting. That was why he'd come to this seedy bar in the 'bad' part of the city. It had been over a month since he'd fed last and he simply couldn't ignore the hunger any longer. His feeding habits had nothing to do with wanting to keep a low profile, he simply couldn't muster up the desire to feed. He was supposed to be looking for suitable prey, instead he was staring down at his wallet. At the faded wallet sized school pictures, the only ones he had, of Sam.

If he was human he'd probably be drunk off his ass by now, but he couldn't even have alcohol. Sometimes being a vampire really sucked.

* * *

Sam woke up just as the alarm went off, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. Groaning softly he looked out of the window. The sun was just starting to set, and Sam felt adrenalin flood him at the sight.

Just a few months ago, Sam had been a happy go lucky guy. He went to school, did homework, hung out with friends... and then he had accidentally stumbled across one of Bobby's journals, and in that journal was the picture of John's dead body and newspaper clippings claiming John was a serial killer and had died due to a wild animal attack during one of his own attacks.

From there, Sam started reading on all the ways Bobby had been trying to track him down. All the little clippings and connections that Bobby never made starting to return to Sam. The man found dead in the motel room the night there were gunshots and a child's crying heard? That was Dean. That trucker found dead in the bathroom at a random truckstop? Sam knew that had been Dean.

Mostly though, it was seeing his father's picture with blood all over him and his throat torn out by something more vicious than the man Sam had known as Dean really rattled him. So Sam talked to Bobby about that and the way Bobby had quietened down told Sam so much more. After that, Bobby had told him all that he knew about John. He had told him about the way he hunted, the way he had taken care of Sam, the things he had done for him. Slowly, the more he listened to Bobby describe the man Sam knew nothing more of than what he looked like, Sam started to hate Dean.

Dean was a monster. He had killed his father, kidnapped Sam, then taken care of Sam so much that he had gotten attached to the asshole when, as Dean's last words had been, he was nothing more than food for him. Maybe, eventually, Dean would have turned him into cattle or whatever it was that vampires called those humans they kept to feed on. As a child, Sam was too small to be able to handle something like that, but once he was older...

Dean may have just been waiting for such an opportunity.

Sighing, Sam rested his head in his hands, remembering how Dean had held him after nightmares and the way he had been so gentle and kind with him... how much of it was even true? How much had Sam made up? He had been only ten years old, and so he can't trust his memories.

After all, Dean had left him when faced with hunters. Sam didn't know what to think anymore.

But he knew one thing. He was a Winchester, and Dean had killed his father. So Sam was going to take revenge.

Standing up straight, Sam stretched to an impressive 5'10" and he wasn't done growing yet. His too long legs and too large hands and feet were testament to that. Turning on the lights, Sam looked at the wall in front of him. Newspaper clippings stretched across the wall, all of them suspected vampire attacks. Sam headed to every one of those sites with his Impala and handy fake ID claiming him to be eighteen. Bobby kept in touch with him, and Sam made sure the older man always knew that Sam was being safe, but he was glad that Bobby let him do his own thing. After all, it was either Bobby let him go and still have contact with Sam, or Sam run away and Bobby never seeing him again.

This town Sam was in... there were vampires here, Sam was sure of it. There had been random victims, some found with all their blood drained, others missing, all over. The victims found were the sort no one paid much attention to. Homeless people, prostitutes, strays. Sam had even noticed when he had been here a while and noticed that some of the homeless people he saw frequently started to disappear.

The sun was just starting to set and Sam had things to do. He had already prepared his weapons. Machetes sharpened and hunting knives dipped in dead man's blood. He had to call Bobby and let him know he was heading out to hunt a nest he had found the day before... and he had to eat. Bobby didn't like it when he went to these things alone, but Sam hadn't given him a choice.

Hunting vampires... that's what Sam did. And eventually, in the process, he'll meet Dean. He was sure of it.

* * *

Dean finally left the bar close to closing time without choosing a victim, even though it would have been very easy considering the way one of the waitresses had been flirting with him all night. But he still needed to feed, so Dean walked the back alleys of the slums until some desperate idiot who reeked of booze tried to mug him.

The vampire killed the man quickly and drained him, leaving the body to rot in the alley. Feeling no pleasure in the act, and only an increasing disgust with himself. At what he’d become. He was a vampire, the ultimate predator, and he was reduced to living off the vermin of the streets.

Dean growled at himself, shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets as he walked home. Perhaps it was time to move on again. It seemed whenever he stayed in one place for more than a couple of months he’d eventually slide down this steep slope of self-pity to wallow in melancholy. It was pathetic really.

It had been six years for god sake. Longer than the four years he and Sam had lived together. The boy was surely well cared for. Better than Dean could have ever done. He was surely well protected. By now he’d be sixteen. Nearly a man and old enough to take care of himself. Even if Sam were still with him the boy would not need Dean to care for him anymore. Dean needed to get over this… obsession.

Yes, it was definitely time to move on. At least while he was moving he had other things to occupy his mind. It wasn’t like he had anything keeping him here, the vampire thought, as he arrived at his trashy one room apartment. Even by human standards it was a dump and just another example of how pathetic he’d become.

Maybe he’d travel to Vegas next. Stay in a four star hotel. Enjoy some entertainment for a change. Pay some beautiful hookers for a night of pleasure and then drain them once he was through with them. Remind himself what it was like to _live_ instead of this half dead state he’d resigned himself to.

But even as he thought it he knew he wouldn’t do it. It was like the vampire was punishing himself and Dean didn’t even know what crime he was punishing himself for. Perhaps if he hadn’t been wallowing so deeply in pity, if he’d been paying an iota of attention, he wouldn’t have been surprised to open his apartment door and find it already occupied. He definitely wouldn’t have been surprised by the blow to the side of his head strong enough to knock out even a vampire. 

* * *

Sam was standing in his underwear in the bathroom, washing his hands off the blood that still clung to them when his cell rang. Cursing softly, Sam quickly dried his hands and picked it up.

"You're still alive then?" Bobby's voice was dry and Sam rolled his eyes.

"I was about to call you, but I literally just got back. Shit, Bobby. There were like ten of these guys. Luckily, half of them had gone to feed and the other half weren't too difficult to take care of."

"You killed that many?" Bobby asked and Sam shrugged.

"Honestly, I remember vampires being a lot tougher than that," Sam said, wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear as he picked up his bloody clothing. "I killed two and the rest scattered. Then I just had to pick them off one by one."

"Just be careful doing it, kiddo. I'd rather you had backup..."

"We've been through this," Sam pointed out and ignored when Bobby sighed. "So, where to next?"

"You gotta take a break-"

"Where to, Bobby?"

Another sigh. "I'll call you back if I have any news. Keep in touch, you hear?"

"Alright. I'm gonna go have some breakfast and then go to bed. Goodnight," Sam said and Bobby chuckled.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," Bobby said, amused and Sam huffed before ending the call.

 

*

 

Being so young had it's perks. For one, no vampire ever really thought he was a threat until he already had a machete halfway through their neck. Secondly, the police never suspected him much if they came across him. He was a tall, lanky kid with giant hands and feet and big hazel eyes that could make anyone melt. Sam wasn't ashamed of using his puppy dog look to get him out of tough spots... well, okay he was a _little_ ashamed, but it worked.

The problem with being young was obvious. He had a harder time getting into bars. Clubs didn't let him in. He had to jump through hoops to convince someone he was legal, etc. But Sam managed.

Stepping out of the Impala which he had taken back from Bobby when he got his license, Sam headed to the trunk and pulled out his duffel bag. The streets were silent tonight, but Sam knew there was a killer here somewhere. Last three months there had been a steady string of deaths in the streets. Always someone who wouldn't be noticed missing. Homeless people, prostitutes, strays.

There hadn't been a killing in a week though, and Sam could imagine the vamp might be getting hungry. So he was in the run down part of town, hoping he had the right place. If the vamp showed, Sam was ready.

* * *

When Dean woke up it was to the worst headache he’d ever had in his life. That probably had something to do with his skull being cracked. That was about the only way you could hit a vampire hard enough to knock them out. It wouldn’t kill him, but it sure as hell hurt like a mother-fucker.

That told Dean two things right away. One, whoever knocked him out was strong as hell. Two, whoever knocked him out wanted him alive. At least for the moment. So that meant it wasn’t a hunter. Dean didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Slowly Dean pried his eyes open, the blood from his head wound practically cementing them shut. The room he was in looked like an old root cellar. There were no windows so it was impossible to tell if it was day or night. The floor was packed dirt but the wall behind him was solid stone. The thick iron shackles binding his wrists above his head were as old as the rest of the place looked but a brief tug on them proved to be plenty strong enough to hold him. He wouldn’t be breaking them or pulling them out from the wall any time soon, especially in his weakened state. They were made to hold a vampire.

His senses were definitely muddled due to the massive concussion he had because he couldn’t pick up the scent of the one who’d put him here. Once a vampire had a scent they never forgot it, so that meant either he was too hurt to remember it or he didn’t know the person who’d attacked him. None of this made any sense, though that might be a result of his concussion as well.

With nothing else to do Dean spent the next few minutes tugging on the chains holding him even though he had no hope of breaking them. Eventually he passed out again. He had no idea how long he’d slept, it could have been minutes, hours, or days. When he woke again his head felt a little clearer. The pain beginning to lessen as his body healed.

When he opened his eyes this time however there was another vampire standing over him. Younger than himself but not a fledgling. He didn’t recognize the other vampire’s scent or appearance. Dean opened his mouth to speak but before he could even utter a sound the vampire hit him hard enough it caused his skull to ricochet off the wall behind him. Effectively undoing any healing progress his body had made.

Dean’s vision blurred but before he passed out again he saw a large syringe in the other vampire’s hand. A dark red liquid inside of it. When the other man injected him with it Dean knew exactly what it was. Dead man’s blood. Thankfully he passed out again before he started screaming. 

* * *

It was nearly three in the morning when Sam sagged against the wall of an alley not far from his car. He had been here for nearly four hours, waiting for any sign of something wrong but nothing had happened. That wasn't surprising though. Sam couldn't exactly predict when the vampire would hit, so often he would end up standing around waiting for the next attack, specially when he had no clue to go on.

Sighing again, Sam had to struggle not to let his guard down. He was supposed to be in school right now. He should have been in school. He would have been halfway through tenth grade with exams coming up soon. But this is what Sam had chosen. Bobby had offered him the chance to continue studying. He had offered Sam the chance at leaving the hunter behind and going to college, getting a career... being _safe._

__Instead, here was Sam... and he had no one to blame but himself.

For no real reason, Sam started thinking about Dean. The vampire he barely remembered the face of, except in his dreams where the vampire was vivid and so real. Sam remembered things like his green eyes, the way he had been so strong yet so gentle with Sam... the way he had taken care of Sam in so many ways...

Also that he had killed John Winchester, framed him for a string of murders when the man was a damn _hero_ , stolen John's prized car, his son, _and_ his name.

Those were hard things to forget or forgive.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Sam started to walk again. If he kept moving, he was more likely to stay alert. A little bit further down, the light from Sam's flashlight reflected off of something and Sam frowned as he stepped towards it. Sam's eyes widened when he saw it was a man, face down. He ran up to him, turning him onto his back and noting the pale skin and wide open eyes. Even before Sam pressed his fingers to the man's neck, feeling for a pulse, he knew he was dead. The ripped up neck and lack of bleeding told Sam what had been here.

A vampire had struck already, and he had missed him. Rage and hatred welled up inside him. He was _right there_ and he had been unable to catch the vamp. Looking around for any kind of clue, Sam noticed a wallet discarded a few feet away from the corpse. Wondering if it was the dead man's wallet, Sam picked it up. Opening it, Sam pulled out the driving license sticking out on the side and pointed the flashlight at it. A moment later, the card fell to the ground along with the wallet. Sam stood there frozen. Did he just see that or had the bright flashlight in a dark alley played tricks on him?

Picking up both items again, Sam looked closer. Sam didn't recognize the name, but the picture...

Dean.

Sam quickly went through the contents of the wallet. Three different IDs with different names. A few hundred dollars in cash. And his...

His picture. Sam's picture. From when he was ten years old.

Dean was carrying his picture? But... why?

The sight of that old photo in Dean's wallet made something in Sam's chest ache. The sensation was heavy, like a pressure on his chest as he looked down at it, and then at Dean's picture in the driver's license.

_Hey, Sammy. How was school?_

Dean's voice was clear in his head as Sam looked at the photo. The times Dean had taken care of him while he was sick, when he had stayed next to Sam when he had nightmares, the gentle and loving look he used to give Sam...

Before he turned around and walked away and never ever contacted Sam again.

Hand shaking slightly, Sam put the photo and ID back in the wallet and then pocketed it.

Dean was in this town, killing people, and Sam will find him.

* * *

When Dean woke up again he didn’t feel any better. In fact, he felt a hundred times worse. The vampire groaned softly as he forced his eyes open. It was a struggle to keep them open, much less focus on anything. It was even more a struggle to lift his head. Every muscle in his body ached. It felt like fire pumping through his veins with every heartbeat.

Turning his head slightly he discovered why. Hanging from a nail in the wall was an IV pouch full of blood, just like you’d see in any hospital. The IV was connected to his arm, and from the intense burning pain and ugly black lines stretching out from where the needle pierced his skin he knew it was dead man’s blood. Clever. Very clever.

The dead man’s blood would not only keep him weak but it would keep him from healing as well. Enough of it and it might even kill him, but if whoever caught him wanted him dead surely the deed would already be done. Unless they wanted to torture him first. There was always that possibility. Even if he somehow managed to pull the IV out of his arm it would take him days, maybe even weeks, to recover from the poison flowing into his veins.

The sound of a door opening pulled Dean’s attention away from the IV and he turned his attention to the stairs. He could barely focus but he could make out the sharp sound of expensive heels clicking down the rickety creaking steps. It was an odd combination.

Dean blinked, still having trouble focusing even when the slim curvaceous figure stood directly in front of him. It was finally her scent that told Dean his jailer’s identity.

“Julia…” Dean whispered, his voice hoarse and barely above a breath. A cruel chuckle before the woman leaned in closer to him, finally allowing his eyes to focus upon her face, told him he was right. His sister…

“So nice of you to remember me, big brother. I’ve certainly never forgotten you.” She said, almost sweetly but Dean heard the edge of steel in her words. Exactly as he remembered. Her long blonde hair fell across her shoulder, brushing his face, her cool blue eyes dancing with devilish delight as she tweaked the flow rate on the IV. Her painted red lips pulling into a smirk when he kissed in agony as more dead man’s blood flowed into him.

She’d always been a cruel bitch. She was beautiful of course. Just like all of their sire’s children. Their sire made her about thirty years after he’d made Dean. Unlike Dean, she loved their sire. But then she was too stupid to realize that they were nothing more than amusing playthings to their sire. Nothing more than pretty pets. Slaves. Despite all of her efforts, all of her obedience, Dean still remained their sire’s favorite and she’d always hated him for that.

“He’s never forgotten you either.” She continued, and this time there was definite malice in her voice. Dean’s eyes widened when the implications of her words finally registered in his mind. It couldn’t be…

She pulled back from him and laughed at his expression.

“Did you really think you could kill _him_? Foolish, big brother. It took him nearly a hundred years to heal from your betrayal, but he is stronger than ever now. He’s been looking for you for such a long time. He’s going to be so pleased. He’s going to enjoy hurting you as much as you hurt him. And I’m going to enjoy watching.” She hissed and then turned and started to walk away from him. Dean had been so stunned by her appearance and her words he never noticed the young vampire from before until the man hit him and knocked him out yet again.

* * *

That town became a nightmare for Sam.

Dean was in there, somewhere, and Sam _had_ to find him before the vampire knew that Sam was here and left. This was the closest Sam had gotten to him since he had started hunting.

The city was suddenly huge, and Sam didn't know where to start. There were too many hiding places.

Finding where Dean was staying for the moment had been easy. The numbers on the credit cards on the wallets was sent to Bobby immediately, who answered within a few hours with information on where they had been used and when.

Dean didn't drink. Not really. He pretended to for others sake but he couldn't eat or drink or anything. So majority of the purchases on the cards had to do with gas stations and motel rooms and sometimes, a bar.

Particularly, the bar that had been closest to where Sam had found the body.

Sam passed on each one of Dean's aliases to Bobby, who let him know soon enough that there was an apartment rented under that name in that same town. Dean was careful though. The ID he had used to sign the lease papers was not the one he used for credit cards. If Sam hadn't found his wallet...

That raised a different question. Dean was always so careful... how did he drop his wallet next to the body he had drained? It didn't make sense. It almost seemed like a trap... but it made Sam's stomach turn with worry as well. Was something wrong with Dean? Was he hurt? Had something gone wrong?

That worry was even further cemented when Sam found Dean's apartment door unlocked, and the apartment itself empty. There were signs of struggle, but Dean's stuff was still there which meant that Dean hadn't skipped town.

Sam searched the apartment, looking for any clues but not finding them.

When the sun rose the next day and Dean still wasn't back, Sam started to believe that either something had happened to him, or he had just up and left.

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure how long he drifted in and out of consciousness. He figured it was never for very long. Julia had always been impatient and he didn’t think the centuries had changed that. Most of the time he woke up screaming thanks to whatever new game she came up with.

The first time it had been to her cutting off his shirt with a knife coated in dead man’s blood. Slicing a deep rent up his chest at the same time. Once the shirt was gone she continued to use the knife on him. Cutting his chest, his back, his neck, and his arms, but never his face. She wanted to keep him looking ‘pretty’ for their ‘master’ when he arrived. She finally lost interest when his voice had grown so hoarse from screaming he could only moan faintly.

The next time he woke up thankfully he was alone. Though by then the heavy stench of his own blood mingled with dead man’s blood was nauseating. With nothing else to do he found himself trapped in his memories. Long faded by the years, now each one fresh and new as if it happened only yesterday. Nothing like being carved up like a slab of meat to refresh your memory.

He’d been so young and so stupid as a human. Cocky. Arrogant. A farm hand with big dreams and an equally big mouth. He’d been walking home with a group of his friends late one night from the local tavern when they crossed paths with the man. The man had pale white skin the color of moonlight. Eyes so dark they were nearly black. Long chestnut colored hair that fell down his back. Dressed like an aristocrat in silks and gold.

In other words, completely out of place in their little shitty town. One of his friends, Dean couldn’t even remember the man’s name or face anymore, suggested the brilliant idea of mugging him and taking all of his belongings. There were five of them after all and the man was alone. They weren’t going to hurt him, but just one ring off the man’s finger could make them rich.

Dean had been young and drunk enough to go along with it. They had been so stupid. The man wasn’t a man and he’d killed Dean’s friends so fast it was over before the terror could even grip them. Dean was left standing there in the middle of broken bodies, covered in the blood of his friends, staring wide eyed at the creature he’d only heard about in stories. Stories that couldn’t be real, yet here was a demon of the night standing right in front of him, red eyes looking directly into his soul.

The man suddenly smiled at him, yet there was no warmth in those demonic eyes and only cruelty in his sharp features. The man cut his palm with his own razor sharp teeth and forced it over Dean’s mouth. His struggles were like a moth batting at an elephant, utterly useless. Suffocating Dean had no choice to swallow the thick burning blood that poured into his mouth. Once he had the creature released him and was suddenly gone, and Dean was left alone.

Terrified Dean ran the rest of the way home, not stopping even when his heart felt like it was bursting. He tore off his bloodied clothes, washed the blood off of him as best he could but it was as though he could still feel it. Burning under his skin. The burning grew worse and worse. The faintest candlelight seared his eyes. Ever whisper of sound turned into a scream and he covered his ears in a vain attempt to block it out but it wouldn’t stop.

As morning approached he finally stumbled out of his house, agony practically overwhelming him. A hunger like he’d never known clawing in his gut like a ravenous beast. Like the monster that had torn apart his friends. Then he saw Emily. Sweet Emily. He’d known her all of his life. One day he’d hoped to ask her to marry him. When he saw her all he could hear was her heartbeat, not her worried words. Then all he could see was her terrified face as he attacked, but he didn’t care. Her screams woke the rest of the village before his fangs ripped out her throat.

His senses only returned to him once her heart had stopped beating. Her dead body laying before him and the enraged villagers shouts of monster, demon, ringing in his ears. Crude tools were brandished like weapons as the men advanced on him and Dean did the only thing he could think of. He turned and ran. Into the woods. Away from everything he knew. It felt like he ran for days before he finally stopped. Collapsing in a shaking heap in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, but somehow he knew he wasn’t alone.

He could outrun the humans easily but not the monster that created him. The monster who stood across the clearing from him wearing a pleased smile. With a roar Dean attacked him but despite his new strength and speed the far older vampire overpowered him easily. Pinning him to the ground while Dean raged with an almost fond chuckle.

“Very good, my beautiful son. You have fire in you. I like that very much.” The monster’s dark rich tones slid over Dean like a caress, followed by the man’s hands. The man kissed him hard, ignoring how Dean bit him trying to stop him. The man bit him back just as savagely, and then lapped up their mingled blood from Dean’s lips and mouth.

Dean gasped for air when the other man finally released his mouth, turning his head when the vampire leaned in again but instead of trying to kiss him again the man whispered into his ear. Words that would haunt Dean for the rest of his life.

“My name is Marcus. And you are mine, now and forever.” 

* * *

Even though Dean could have just up and gone, something told Sam that that's not what had happened. There was blood in the apartment, signs of struggle, and all of Dean's stuff left behind. There were only two possibilities. Either Dean had to run, which means that someone or something was after him, or Dean had been kidnapped.

The memories Sam had of Dean wouldn't allow him to consider the second possibility, but he couldn't rule it out either.

Sam started to ask around. Sometimes, being a teenager really worked against him. People saw how young he was and they tended to ask him things like 'aren't you a bit young to be a cop?' or 'Shouldn't you be in school?' Sam hated it. If he had to be in school he would have been. This is hardly their problem!

But he smiled and shrugged and said that he actually wasn't that young, he just had one of those faces.

Asking Dean's neighbors answered little. The guy right next door was drunk off his ass, and from his wife Sam found out he was usually this way. Asking the wife had been useless too, since she hadn't been home last night.

He had some luck with the old lady on the other side of the hall. She practically shooed him down and told him that if he was asking about the tall handsome man then he had been kidnapped by a guy. Not that she was spying, god no. She had just looked out when she heard crashing and noises come from next door.

Sam's question about anything else she had seen got him a license plate number and a description of the car. A steel grey pickup. Thank god for bored little old ladies.

Outside the apartment, Sam noticed that there was a convenience store with a security camera facing the street. Hoping that it caught something, Sam requested the owner to let him watch the tape which he was apprehensive about but eventually relented when Sam said he was looking into a missing person. Building up a sob story was easy. His brother was kidnapped, the police were doing all they could but if Sam could _just_ take _one little peek_...

It worked.

All Sam saw was the pickup drive down the road and turn left at the main road. But for a split second there he saw the face of the guy driving the truck.

Tall, fairly young, with dark hair and pale skin. Not much to go on, but Sam was sure if he saw him again he'll recognize him.

* * *

The next time Dean woke up again it was to his own screaming, only this time it was accompanied by the smell of burning flesh. Julia stood over him smiling sweetly. An iron poker held in her hand, one end still glowing red. His chest still smoldering a little where she’d stuck him with it.

Dean opened his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he had been about to say because it was cut off by another choking yell ripped from his throat when she placed the glowing poker against his stomach. Holding it there for what seemed like an eternity before she pulled it away. Leaving blackened and smoking flesh.

Like an abused dog kicked one too many times, Dean’s eyes turned red, his fangs descended and he lunged for the other vampire. His teeth snapping at empty air as the chains brought him up short of course and Julia merely laughed at the display. He really couldn’t blame her. It was rather pathetic.

“There’s that fire the master enjoys so well.” She practically purred, smirking at him when the comment made him pale.

“You’ve always wanted me dead. Now is your chance. Just kill me, god damn it.” Dean hissed in anger but he knew he probably sounded more desperate than angry and he was. She knew it too and she smirked again, leaning in close to him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know you, big brother. You’re not afraid to die, no. But you are afraid to see him again, aren’t you? That’s why I’m not going to kill you. Because you don’t deserve that mercy.” She said sweetly, before leaning back and pressing the poker once more to his flesh. 

* * *

Sometimes Sam felt like he was relying on Bobby too much. He felt like he always asked Bobby to find out things for him, and explain him things, and figure out things... but Bobby told him repeatedly that he'd rather have Sam tell him what was up than try to figure it out himself.

Sam hadn't told Bobby about Dean. Sam had told Bobby about the murders in the city, and told him that the suspect was seen driving _this_ kind of car and was using _these_ aliases etc etc. Bobby didn't know Sam was on Dean's tail, or Bobby would have shown up.

Bobby got himself access to the police files and from there on, he was tracking the car. Luckily for Sam, it was caught speeding through a red light just outside of the city and then Sam was racing there. Outside the city meant Sam had been working in the wrong area the entire time.

Sam got a room in a motel right near where the truck had been sighted, and from then on Sam started patrolling the roads, back and forth because as useless as Sam felt, he couldn't just sit still in his room and twiddle his thumbs.

Then Sam spread the word locally that this truck was stolen and to call Sam's number if someone saw it. Soon enough, knowing where the truck went was as easy as answering a phonecall. Tracking the truck, Sam narrowed it down to a road flanked on either side by row after row of dead, old, abandoned houses.

But this is where everyone had seen the truck go so Sam parked the car out of sight and then staked out the road. Here came the boring part.

It took nine hours when Sam saw the truck go past and Sam was out of his car and careful tracking the truck's movement as it went down the road, turned right and then stopped.

This was it. This is where Dean was...

Sam hoped.

Holding up the machete, Sam watched from afar as the dark haired, tall pale man stepped out of the truck, carrying in bags of something that looked heavy into the house Sam had originally thought was abandoned. He jogged carefully and as silently as he could to the side of the house, plastering himself against the wall on the side as he listened closely.

How many people were in there?

Were these people vampires? How else could they have gotten the jump on Dean?

Hunters maybe?

Sam didn't want to hurt anyone until he had those answers.

* * *

After the poker had cooled down the game was thankfully over and Julia left him alone once again. If the smell of dead man’s blood mingled with his own wasn’t bad enough already he now had the smell of charred flesh on top of it. Just lovely.

It was probably a good thing that Dean had nothing in his stomach to vomit up. The blood he’d drunk before he’d been brought here had long been used up. With all his blood lost, injuries, and the dead man’s blood he was ravenous. The hunger clawing in his gut like a wild animal was a pain like no human could understand. It was the ultimate torture for a vampire and Dean knew she’d driven him to this state on purpose. Every day the pain would grow worse, the hunger would grow worse. He would go mad from it long before it killed him.

Even that… was nothing compared to what Marcus would do to him when he arrived. Yes, death was the far more merciful fate.

The smell of Dean’s own burnt flesh reminded him of a similar smell many years ago. A night he could never forget if he tried. The night he had escaped from his sire after forty long years of slavery.

Dean had killed him. Or at least Dean had thought he’d killed him. Beheading was a quick clean death for a vampire but Dean knew he wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough, to get that close. The only other option then was fire.

He’d almost been killed himself in the blaze he’d set, but it had been worth the risk to escape that tortured life. The fire had spread quickly. Dean had fought the man who’d been his master, while the mansion erupted in flames. Dean finally managed to douse his sire with oil threw him into the flames. He’d stayed just long enough to listen to the man’s screams, watch his body turn black as it was charred almost beyond recognition, and finally he fled.

It had taken nearly five years for him to recover from the burns he’d received but he didn’t care. He’d been free and he’d never looked back. Even though for many decades after he was constantly looking over his shoulder. Perhaps he was foolish to believe he could ever be free, that someone like him could possibly kill something so old and so evil.

It was a good thing then that he’d left Sam in the care of the hunters. Dean did not want to begin imagining what Julia, or worse, Marcus would do to the boy if he’d been living with Dean when they caught him. Well, at least that was one decision he no longer regretted. Dean smiled a little at the thought. 

* * *

Sam waited, his back pressed hard against the old wood of the house. He waited and waited, counting every breath, trying to be as silent as possible, never letting his guard down. Luckily, not twenty minutes later a woman walked out. Sam held his breath, waiting until she got into the car and drove away before he let his breath out.

Okay, no time to relax. The dark haired man was still inside. Sam had to be careful.

He went around to the overgrown backyard, looking up to the second floor of the house and noting that there were no lights on. Then again, did this place even have lights? Breathing out slowly, Sam forced his hammering heart to slow. The night seemed particularly dark tonight, and Sam grabbed his flashlight even though he left it off. Switching on a flashlight was like just begging to be seen.

Sam tried the back door. Broken down as it was, it was still locked. Pulling out a safety pin Sam always kept in his pocket, he got to work. It took a few minutes - working in the dark doubled his lockpicking time - but he heard the tell tale click of the lock and Sam slowly opened the door and stepped inside, machete at the ready.

As soon as he came in, he heard footsteps and then the dark haired man... no, _vampire_ was coming at him, eyes wide but glowing red and fangs descended. So it was definitely vampires. Sam only had his agility to rely on as he ducked and weaved, managing to escape the vampire's quick swipes at him. The dark put the vampire at an advantage and when it seemed the vampire had Sam cornered, Sam leaned into the fight rather than stepping away and a moment later, the vampire's head on the ground.

Good thing Sam kept his machete hair splitting sharp.

Swallowing thickly, Sam took a few more steps inside, machete held in front of him like a sword and ready for anything else. The fight had made enough noise, and Sam waited a few more breaths before realizing that the house is probably empty. He was in the main hall now, with stairs going up on one side and a door, bolted, to his left. Sam looked at the stairs going up, and the bolted door. Upstairs or the bolted door?

The bolted door held much more mystery.

Sam took one more look at the unstable staircase then decided he was sure whatever those two were hiding would be behind the bolted door. So Sam started to pick the lock, working diligently until the bolt snapped open and then Sam was pushing the door open, carefully stepping down the stairs, machete held out with one hand while he switched on the flashlight, looking up at the ceiling and noting all the cobwebs with the spiders hanging in them, the water stained walls of the stairwell, the more than a little creaky stairs themselves...

Then Sam reached the basement and he swung the flashlight around in a wide arc, intending to cover every corner but his flashlight stopped at the chained man.

Covered in burns, bloodied skin, hair matte with dirt and grease... The smell was burned flesh was strong down here, and it made Sam gag a little.

"... Dean?" Sam called out, voice only a little louder than a whisper, hesitant still but... was this Dean? Or some other poor guy who had gotten himself into a lot of trouble?

* * *

Eventually Dean slipped back into unconsciousness. A blessed relief from the pain of the torture he’d endured. He didn’t hear the sounds of the sudden ruckus upstairs or the sound of the basement door opening. However he did hear the sound of the rapid beating living heart suddenly so very close. The scent of human blood…

The hunger clawed inside him ferociously, strong enough to wake him with a hiss. His eyes snapped open. Blood red jewels glowing brightly as the vampire slowly lifted his head. Eyes that had such trouble focusing before, now laser fixed on the young man standing at the bottom of the stairs.

With a vicious growl Dean lunged. Only to be brought up short by the chains holding him and he howled in rage. Fighting against the shackles holding him. Desperately trying to get to the blood he needed so badly.

But something… something suddenly shifted. His eyes did not recognize the young man standing in front of him. His ears did not recognize his voice. But something about his scent… Dean froze. His eyes blinking slowly, a bit of the mindless blood lust fading from them and confusion replacing it.

The smell of blood both human and vampire, dead man’s blood, and burnt flesh was almost overpowering but underneath all of that was the young man’s… boy’s… unique scent. Shockingly familiar. Even though his mind refused to believe it, perhaps he was already slipping into madness from lack of blood. But even though he’d often imagined how the boy he’d briefly raised would look now, almost a man, his imaginings had never been this clear before.

“Sam…?” 

* * *

Before Sam could get a good look at the man, his head snapped up, eyes like glowing red coals and face twisted in rage and hunger. Sam stumbled backwards, only working on reflexes because even though he saw this sight much too often lately, something about _this_ man made Sam freeze instead of attack back.

Breathing heavily, Sam watched as Dean was held back by the chains. Sam recognized him now... this was the face he remembered sometimes. The times when Dean had raged at him with his glowing red eyes and twisted monster face. Dean stopped doing that once they started living together, but before then... the few times Sam _had_ seen his face...

But Dean was calming down now, and his eyes and face returning to it's blood streaked but normal features. Hearing his name in that voice again made Sam's heart ache.

"Dean..." Sam whispered again, surprised even though he shouldn't have been. He stood there for a moment, his fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the machete and Dean tied up in front of him.

If Sam wanted to kill him, now was the chance.

And Sam did. Sam wanted to kill him. He had a hundred reasons to... but... but it was _Dean_.

Sam lifted the machete, stepping closer and resting the sharp blade against Dean's neck, not nicking the skin but the threat was there. "You killed my father, framed him, kidnapped me and..." Sam took in a shuddering breath. "I should kill you."

* * *

Dean watched as the young man stumbled back away from him. It was only then that the vampire noticed the machete held in his hands, and for some reason that cemented the reality of what was happening in Dean’s mind. This was no dream. No hallucination. It truly was Sam standing in front of him now.

How had Sam found him? What was he doing here? Those were but a few of the thousand questions suddenly racing around in the vampire’s mind. Sam seemed almost as shocked as Dean was seeing him here. Did that mean that Sam did not expect to find him here? Then why was the boy here in the first place?

It didn’t make any sense. But Sam seemed to recover from his shock first. The boy approached him, brandishing the blade, and Dean wasn’t at all surprised when Sam rested it against his neck. Dean always knew that one day this day would come. There was no feelings of betrayal inside the vampire, only understanding and acceptance which was reflected in his eyes.

Dean nodded slightly, the movement causing the blade to pierce his skin a little but he didn’t flinch away from it. Then the vampire remembered what Julia had told him before she’d left. Marcus was nearby. She was going to get him. He would be here soon.

Fear suddenly sprang into Dean’s eyes but it was not for him.

“Do it. Quickly. Then get out of here. Get as far away as you can. He’s coming.”

* * *

Sam hesitated, the blade still pressed against Dean's skin. When Dean moved a little, it nicked the skin and a drop of blood beaded up and trailed down, looking black in the darkness of the basement.

When Dean spoke again, Sam's hesitation increased. Who was coming? What had Dean so scared?

Pulling the knife away, Sam pulled his arm back, aiming to bring it down with momentum and make the beheading easy, smooth... Sam brought his arm down, not intending to stop but inches from Dean's neck, his movement faltered again. He couldn't... this was _Dean_. All the times Dean held him tight, hugged him and made him food and listened to his chatter... all the times Dean stayed sitting beside him all night when he was sick... all the times Dean patched up a skinned knee...

But he also killed John.

Growling, Sam's eyes flashed and he pulled the machete back again. This was it. This is when Sam kills Dean.

He brought his arm down again, the movement only picking up speed but his fingers released the blade before he could behead Dean, and the weapon clattered to the ground, the sound so loud it made Sam flinch.

Sam was breathing heavily, angry at himself. He has been looking for Dean because he wanted revenge! But now that he had him in front of him, chained and weakened, Sam couldn't.

Without thinking about it, Sam reached for the needle feeding dark blood into Dean's arm. He pulled it out quickly before he reached for the safety pin in his pocket.

"Who's coming?" Sam asked, voice a little hoarse before he put the tail end of the flashlight in his mouth and aimed it at the shackles, Sam got to work unlocking them. He didn't know what he was doing. He had no explanation, no rational reason, nothing. There was no way he'd be able to make anyone understand... or even just himself.

This vampire killed people. As a hunter, Sam should kill him. This man killed his father. As a son, Sam should kill him.

But he just couldn't.

* * *

Sam didn’t say anything. Only looked at him with an unreadable expression. When the young man pulled the blade back into an unmistakable position however the message was clear. Dean felt surprisingly calm in the face of his own death. Considering what had been in store for him once Marcus got his hands on him, Sam would probably never realize the mercy he was giving him. A part of him wanted to thank the young man, but it wouldn’t be fair to Sam. Sam wanted to punish him, not release him. Still, even if the boy wasn’t saving him from a fate worse than death, Dean was still a little glad it was Sam killing him now. It felt right somehow…

Dean looked away, not wanting to make it harder for the boy. Though from the blood already staining the machete that wasn’t his own the vampire could guess he wasn’t the first vampire that Sam had beheaded. Still he didn’t want to force Sam to look into his eyes as he killed him.

The blade came down and Dean closed his eyes. But the sharp blow he was expecting to his neck never came. It came close enough that Dean heard the sharp metal hiss through the hair and to feel the brush of wind against his bare skin, but it didn’t touch him.

What was Sam doing?

In spite of himself Dean opened his eyes and looked at the young man. He saw Sam pulling back the blade again, he was sure this time the young man wouldn’t stop. He was both right and wrong. The sound of the machete hitting the wall with a screeching clang made Dean wince.

His eyes widened in shock when Sam suddenly pulled out the IV in his arm and then went to work on the shackles holding him prisoner. Sam’s question however finally snapped the vampire out of his stunned stupor and he pulled his hands away from Sam.

“Don’t. Just get out of here. There’s no time.” Dean hissed. Even if Sam couldn’t kill him he needed to leave now. Even now Marcus would know he’d been here. If Dean was still here then maybe he wouldn’t care. Wouldn’t track the boy. He could only hope. 

* * *

Sam ignored Dean's words and instead focused on the shackles. The flashlight in his mouth kept him from answering him. Sam went for the right hand first, managing to unlock it in a matter of minutes, but when there were three more, a couple of minutes per shackle was too long. Sam quickly moved on to the left cuff, listening to the small snick that told him he had the lock right where he wanted it, and a moment later the cuff unlocked. Sam did the same with Dean's ankles and then he finally took the flashlight out of his mouth, switched it off and wove it through a belt loop, letting it hang.

Sam reached for the machete, but not to hurt Dean but to defend themselves in case something really did come for them.

"Come on, let's go," Sam said as he grabbed Dean's arms, trying to help him up to standing position. Once they were somewhere safe and secure, Sam can figure out what was going on in his head.

* * *

Dean growled softly when the boy simply ignored him. Some things never changed it seemed. The thought was anything but comforting right now however. While the vampire continued to protest and his pleas of ‘just go’ went unheeded he didn’t try to pull away again. Knowing that if the boy was really determined to release him it wouldn’t make a difference other than making it take longer.

When the shackles around his wrists were released, Dean slumped to the ground weakly. His breath coming out in harsh quick pants, mostly from pain. He squeezed his eyes shut but he could feel them glowing red again. His fangs descending as the hunger once more tried to rise up and consume him. Now that he was unbound there was nothing stopping him from taking what he needed.

With great difficulty Dean forced it back. Forced his fangs to retract. He heard the scrape of metal against stone but he didn’t open his eyes. He had a small hope that maybe Sam simply didn’t want to kill a bound, helpless, man… vampire… that maybe the boy would kill him now quickly and leave. But those hopes were dashed when Sam grabbed him and tried to haul him up.

Dean’s body was… less than cooperative. With all the dead man’s blood flowing through his body, not to mention his head wound, cuts, burns, and blood loss… even when he tried to get his legs under him they simply folded under his own weight sending him right back to the floor.

“I can’t…” Dean panted, his breathing growing increasingly labored. His vision swam in and out of focus and he was dangerously close to losing consciousness again. 

* * *

Sam wasn't surprised at Dean's inability to get up. There was a whole IV bag that was nearly empty and form what was leaking out of the needle, Sam was sure it was dead man's blood. All the burning and wounds that Dean has... and then the way Dean had lunged at him told Sam that he was starved as well.

Putting the machete aside because this would require two hands, Sam leaned down, picking up one of Dean's arms and wrapping it around his shoulders and then Sam wrapped his own arm around Dean's back.

"On three," Sam said to him. "One, two..." And then Sam hauled up, his feet bracing against the floor and every muscle in his body straining as he worked at pulling Dean up. Sam was strong, something that was belied by his scrawny appearance, and once Sam had Dean on his feet he found it easier to manage his extra weight.

"Now we'll walk steadily, alright? Slow and steady, one step at a time. Once we get upstairs, I'll bring the car around. Try not to eat me while we do this, yeah?" Sam asked, only partly joking before he tightened his grip around Dean and started to move towards the stairs slowly.

* * *

  
_Stubborn._ Was Dean’s first thought, and it was surprisingly fond, as Sam pulled his arm over his shoulder and did the impossible. Or maybe it only seemed impossible because even though he could see the young man Sam had become right in front of him he still couldn’t help but think of him as the ten year old boy he’d left behind. But even though it took a great deal of effort on both their parts, Sam doing most of the work and Dean helping very little, they managed to get the wounded vampire on his feet.

Now came the hard part.

Dean grunted an affirmative at Sam’s request that the vampire not eat him. He heard the joking in the young man’s tone, surprising him a little, especially since this was no joke. It was all he could do to keep himself from tearing the young man’s throat out. Especially when Sam was so damned close.

Somehow Sam managed to keep him standing, even when Dean seemed to stumble with every painfully slow step they took. The stairs were narrow and groaned dangerously beneath their combined weight and Dean felt it was nothing short of a miracle when they finally reached the top. He was sweating, shaking, his vision blurring as the room seemed to tilt dangerously but he was still standing. His fear for Sam kept him moving until they were finally outside.

Outside Dean’s head cleared a little but that wasn’t saying much at this point. Sam left him leaning against the side of the old rickety house but as soon as the boy released him Dean slid to the ground without his support. He might have blacked out for a few moments because he didn’t remember when Sam returned. Only realizing when the young man started pulling him upright again, and half-carrying, half-dragging him along.

Finally Dean found himself dumped rather unceremoniously into the backseat of a familiar car, heard a door slam, and then the rumble of an engine starting. That was about the last thing he remembered before he passed out again however. 

* * *

Sam had taken up praying a few years ago, and whether god existed or not it tended to offer him some semblance of comfort. But right now, he was thanking god as they managed to make it upstairs in one piece, even if Dean was shivering and sweating profusely and it would take a blind man not to notice that Dean was phasing in and out of consciousness.

The second thing Sam had to thank god for was that nothing jumped them when they were both so openly vulnerable. Sam had to leave his machete behind when he held Dean up, and he had only his hunting knife to defend them both with.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to get Dean into the backseat of the Impala, and then a split second later Sam was in the driver's seat, driving them away and someplace safer. Sam drove for as long as he could, wanting to make sure the vampires won't track them. He passed three towns and a small city before he stopped at a motel in the next town. He was worried about Dean... he didn't know how long Dean could go before feeding again, and in the shape he was in right now? It didn't seem like Dean could hunt... not that Sam should let him hunt, since that would mean killing people.

Fuck, this was complicated. He was supposed to kill Dean when he met him! Now he's trying to think of how to get Dean blood?

Sam could hit a blood bank... but he had never even thought about a blood bank before and he didn't know how much security they would have. Would it be like robbing an actual bank? Or easier?

Sam thought about this the entire time he helped Dean into the room he had gotten them. Setting Dean down on the bed farthest from the door, Sam stood there for a moment and just wondered. How the fuck is he supposed to feed Dean?

"Just... just wait here, alright?" Sam said to Dean. "I know you're hungry and hurting, but I'm gonna... I'm gonna do something about that. Just... don't leave. Please don't leave," Sam said to him, deliberately not thinking about why he was begging the vampire he was supposed to kill to not leave. Sam kept looking at Dean with worry before he left the motel room and rushed to the car.

It was really late night, or really early morning. Clinics had to be closed. Clinics had lesser security than hospitals, right? And clinics should have some blood there...

Hopefully.

* * *

Dean didn’t stir once in the back seat of the car. His mind basically shutting down as his body struggled to heal the damage that had been done to it. Without the constant supply of dead man’s blood flooding into his veins it was possible for him to begin healing, but without fresh human blood the process was severely slowed.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t aware. He knew hours had passed. He knew he was moving, or being moved. He knew he wasn’t alone. The constant strong heartbeat coming from the seat in front of him was impossible to ignore. It was only Sam’s constant scent that kept the vampire calm and kept him from lunging for the boy’s throat.

He was aware when the rumbling engine of the car finally stopped but he didn’t open his eyes. Not until Sam was opening the back door of the Impala and gently shaking him awake. When Dean’s eyes finally did slit open they were like glowing rubies in the darkness. The hunger inside of him almost overwhelming and it was all he could do not to snap at the young man’s wrist when Sam reached in to pull him out of the car.

The trip from the car, into the room, where he was finally deposited rather gently onto a bed passed in a blur. Dean’s breaths came out quickly and shallow. His eyes were unfocused, seeming to stare straight through Sam as if he wasn’t there.

Yes, he was hurting but that was to be expected. It was still nothing compared to the fate that Sam had saved him from. Sam had saved him… that just seemed wrong somehow. Especially considering the boy’s words to him when Sam first saw him. Dean deserved to die. Sam had every right to kill him. Instead Sam had saved him and now the boy sounded… worried… when he spoke.

Why?

Don’t leave… that’s what Sam was asking him now. Dean almost chuckled at that request. He couldn’t move under his own power even if he wanted to. His eyes followed Sam around the room and stayed locked on the door for a long time after the boy left. 

* * *

Sam worked fast. He could see Dean was out of it, and he didn't know if a vampire could be killed through starvation or not but Sam wasn't going to experiment on Dean.

He found a clinic not far from where they were. It was closed, of course, but there was an alarm system in place. Sam licked his lips, wondering what to do and how to do it. He went around to the side, finding the fuse box hidden in the back near a large fan. Sam used his hunting knife to pry the box open, then pulled out the wires in there, cringing as sparks flew out.

Hoping he got the electrical connection of the place along with everything else, Sam went out to the front and saw that the main sign on top of the clinic was dim instead of lit up. Nodding to himself, Sam ran back around and pried open a window, carefully getting in and closing it behind him. He was in an examination room, and from there he went back to the nurses station and started opening everything, looking for blood.

"Blood... blood... come _on_ ," Sam muttered to himself, opening all the fridges present there until he found one with had several IV size bags marked with barcodes and blood type. Sam didn't know if Dean had a preference. He also didn't know how many bags Dean will need. So, to be better safe than sorry, Sam stuffed five bags into his backpack. Then, as he was leaving, he picked up two more.

Couldn't hurt.

Rushing back to the motel from there was easy.

"Dean!" Sam said as he opened the door and stepped inside quickly, closing it behind him and unzipping his backpack at the same time. "Here, have these," Sam pulled out the bags of blood, handing two to Dean.

* * *

Unable to remain conscious for long in his weak and injured state eventually Dean’s eyes slid closed once more. Soon he was dreaming. Remembering. But unlike the times he’d fallen unconscious chained to the wall in the basement he wasn’t dreaming about the time he’d spent as a slave to his sire. Instead he was dreaming of the days when he’d first found Sam. When Sam was six years old.

The child had been such a handful back then. So very good at trying Dean’s temper. Pushing his buttons. Making him angry. So stubborn. So willful. Even back then. Surprisingly Dean looked back on those memories with a strange fondness. Not so much the times Dean got angry and snapped at the boy. He was rather ashamed of his actions then. But despite how difficult it had been in the beginning, it had been all worth it. The following four years had been the happiest of Dean’s life.

Four years out of two centuries… it was sad really. But Dean wouldn’t trade those four years for anything.

He remembered how happy and excited Sam had been when Dean first showed him their new home, how the boy had squealed and hugged him tight. He remembered Sam snuggling up against him when he’d been sick, and Dean held him even when the boy sneezed and got snot everywhere. He remembered how Sam would come home excited from school to tell him all about whatever he’d learned that day. How proud Sam was when he did well on an assignment. How Sam would laugh at him in those early days when Dean tried to cook and nearly burnt the house down, and Dean couldn’t help but join in after the smoke had cleared and he could safely put away the fire extinguisher.

It had all been a dream in the end. A lie. He had pretended to be a good man, and even made himself believe it for a short while. But it had been a nice lie.

The dream ended as abruptly as it had the first time. Dean’s eyes slowly slid open when he heard Sam call his name. Not the young six year old Sam but the sixteen year old young man. Dean barely recognized the man in front of him as the child he’d known. There were some similarities. The shade of his hair. The color and shape of his eyes. But so much had changed as well. Dean had often laughed when the boy Sam had been claimed proudly that one day he’d be taller than him. Maybe it would be true one day after all.

He watched as Sam reached into his bag and pulled out the IV bags full of blood. His recent experience with dead man’s blood from such a bag made the vampire wince a little but the hunger was so strong he couldn’t resist. He took one of the bags, his hands shaking a little as he ripped off the top in his haste and greedily drank from the bag.

It took all of two seconds for the blood to reach his stomach and when it did Dean convulsed suddenly. Dropping the bag as he curled in on himself, shaking and vomiting up the small amount of blood he’d drunk. Moaning softly in pain. 

* * *

Sam panicked when Dean started throwing up the blood he had drank. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, Sam rushed to wipe Dean's mouth off. God... was Dean dying? Did Sam do something stupid? Did the clinic put something in that blood to keep it 'fresh' or whatever and it's deadly to vampires?

"Dean... talk to me," Sam said softly, trying to help Dean out. He quickly picked up the leaking blood bag and took it to the bathroom, throwing it into the bathtub to deal with later. Returning to Dean's side, Sam wondered what had gone wrong. "What's wrong with that blood? Is it too old?" Then Sam's eyes widened with a sudden realization. "Is it... since it's not fresh, is it like dead man's blood?" Sam asked nervously. If it was, then what was Sam supposed to do? He couldn't bring in another human and just let Dean feed from him. If he couldn't get Dean blood from someplace else, then Dean would die and...

Fuck, Sam was so not prepared for this.

* * *

Dean gagged and convulsed for what felt like a small eternity before he finally coughed up all of the poisonous blood in his stomach. That was definitely an experience he did not want to repeat. The burning sensation in his stomach remained even though the rest of his body already felt icy cold. The vampire finally grew still. Gasping softly like a fish out of water, a cold sweat beading on his brow and face.

He felt a slightly scratchy towel wiping at his mouth gently and he slowly forced his eyes open. Staring at the boy as Sam wiped off as much of the blood from his face as he could, then rushed with the packet of bad blood to the bathroom before returning to his side.

Sam looked so damned worried. Sam looked so damned young. He was sixteen. He _was_ young. But right now he looked even younger to the vampire. Too damned young to be dealing with this. Dean wondered briefly if Sam would always look that way to him.

When Sam started asking him questions about why he couldn’t drink the blood, all Dean could do was nod faintly at Sam’s conclusion. The boy looked guilty as hell, but it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known. Dean didn’t even know because he’d never tried it himself. Dean never really had a problem with killing before so he’d never looked into… alternate methods to feed himself. Maybe the blood would have been fine under normal circumstances, if it was a little fresher, but with all the dead man’s blood already in Dean’s system…

“It’s… ok…” Dean finally managed to wheeze out. Looking up at Sam and lifting his hand with great difficulty to run gently through the boy’s hair. It was longer than Dean remembered. Sam needed a haircut. Some things never changed. That thought made him smile faintly.

Staring at the streaks of blood his fingers left on the young man’s skin Dean frowned a little. Sam was covered in vampire blood from dragging him around.

“You need… to wash off… don’t want you… infected…” 

* * *

Sam had been dealing fine until then. He had been strong, even if a little confused, but when Dean reached out, running his fingers through Sam's hair and telling him to get washed up...

Sam just couldn't. He didn't even know that he had missed Dean this much. Out of pretty much nowhere, it felt like he was going to die if he didn't curl up next to him. Sam had missed everything about Dean... missed the way he had been so kind to Sam, so gentle, taken so much care of him... Sam had missed talking to him, telling him things, and hearing Dean's laugh...

"I missed you," Sam whispered, dropping down beside Dean, head resting on Dean's shoulder. "I don't know how to help you," Sam said, voice soft as a breath, "How can I help you? You need blood and I..." Sam saw then as he put an arm over Dean's chest. His deep blue veins right under the skin on his wrist. Full of blood.

His blood.

Looking down at his wrist still, Sam sat up again, looking at Dean. The vampire was bloody, covered in cuts and burns and bruises. His eyes were sunken in, his face pale...

Dean looked like he was dying.

"If I give you some of mine... would it be enough?" Sam asked, suddenly sure. He wanted Dean to live. He'll figure out the messed up workings of his own mind once the crisis had passed.

* * *

The vampire watched at the young man’s face suddenly crumbled and it hit him like a punch to his stomach. He hadn’t meant to hurt Sam, but now misery was rolling off the boy in waves. Before Dean could say anything more Sam was crawling into the bed next to him, just as he had when he’d been younger, and Dean just couldn’t tell him no. Even knowing how dangerous it was. Not only could Sam easily become infected by all the blood covering them both, if Dean lost control of the hunger and attacked Sam…

But he couldn’t force himself to push Sam away. He probably couldn’t anyway, given how weak he was, but he wouldn’t have if he could. Instead he did what he’d always done. He wrapped his arms around the boy laying next to him and he hugged him gently.

Sam’s soft admission that he’d missed him was like a knife twisting in Dean’s heart and the vampire let out a slow shuddering breath.

“I missed you too.” Dean replied. Unable to lie to the boy. What was the point now? Dean had no idea how much dead man’s blood was inside of him. Maybe he would heal, maybe he would recover slowly. Or maybe without fresh blood he could be dying slowly right now. He didn’t know.

“It’s ok…” He whispered to the boy again, not only trying to comfort him, because it really was ok. He wasn’t afraid of dying. Dean only cared if Sam was ok. As long as the boy was safe that was all that mattered.

But Sam wasn’t safe. Not with him. Dean knew he needed to convince the boy to leave. To go home. Even if Sam had to leave him like this. Leave him to die. It was better than the risk of Dean hurting Sam. Or worse, when Marcus finally caught up to them. Dean was in no shape to fight. He couldn’t even defend himself much less Sam.

Before he could tell the boy any of this however Sam was suddenly sitting up and asking him if… Sam wanted to give him his blood… Dean’s eyes widened with shock and then he quickly shook his head. He would need a _huge_ amount of blood to recover from this. He was ravenous. It was only his feelings for Sam that kept him from killing the boy and that was only barely holding him back. If he actually tasted Sam’s blood… he could easily take too much. He could kill Sam.

“No… not safe…”

* * *

Sam shook his head. "It's fine. It's you. I'll be okay," Sam said as he scooted closer, now sure that this was the right way to go. "So do you have to be sitting up? Or should I lie down? Are you gonna go for the neck? Or someplace else?" Sam subconsciously touched the spot where Dean had bitten him so long ago. The wound had healed without even a scar, but Sam had always remembered the spot.

"Or maybe..." Sam held out his arm when he realized where he had been touching. "How about...?" Sam extended his arm further, offering the soft front of his arm to Dean, the veins standing out green against the tanned skin.

He just wanted Dean to be better again. Sam knew he probably won't be able to give enough blood that Dean wasn't hungry anymore, but maybe just enough that Dean could heal... he hoped anyway.

* * *

“Sam…” Dean tried to protest but the boy was already acting as though he’d agreed to do this. Scooting closer to him. Asking him what was the best way for Dean to… feed… from him. Like it was nothing. When Dean didn’t answer him, Sam finally simply held out his arm to him. The inside of the young man’s arm so close to Dean’s mouth that the vampire would only have to lean in a few inches…

No. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He shook his head again but it was a weak protest at best. Already he felt his fangs descending. The hunger inside of him trying to claw its way out. Didn’t Sam understand he was only barely holding back? He could _kill_ Sam, and now the boy was _offering_ his blood to him.

He couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d bitten Sam. When he’d been trying to show the boy what a monster he could be. When he’d been trying to scare the child into submission. The guilt of that time had never truly faded, and right now, this was so much worse.

Because unlike that time, when he’d been angry but at least he’d been in control, now he simply couldn’t stop himself. It was all he could do to move slowly. To force himself not to simply rip off the boy’s arm entirely. Taking the boy’s hand and elbow gently and guiding the young man’s arm closer to his mouth. His fangs sinking in slowly rather than simply tearing into the fragile flesh.

The blood hit his tongue and he simply couldn’t stop the low moan that rumbled from the back of his throat like a purr. 

* * *

Sam watched apprehensively as Dean leaned closer, pulling his arm to his mouth and then it was like time had slowed. Sam felt Dean's chapped lips press against his skin first before parting, and then there was the warmth of Dean's mouth, the sharpness of Dean's teeth... and then a sharp burst of pain that disappeared quickly. Then, Dean was moaning throatily, making Sam's breath stick in his throat as he focused on the way it felt to have blood leaving his body like that.

There wasn't much sensation, other than just Dean's teeth and his lips and his hands on Sam's arm and Sam's free hand came up, hesitating over the top of Dean's head before resting lightly on the greasy, blood coated hair. Sam kept the arm Dean was drinking from tense, making a fist out of his hand every once in a while to pump more blood into his fingers.

Sam just kept staring at Dean drinking from him, losing track of time as more blood left him, his hand running lightly through Dean's hair. He remembered the day Dean had left him behind... how scared and lonely he had felt when Bobby had picked him up and taken him to South Dakota. He remembered how hollow he had felt since then, thinking constantly of the vampire who wasn't there anymore.

At first, Sam had missed Dean like he couldn't put into words. He had thought of him every day, every hour. He missed Dean in everything. Watching TV, eating food, just going to school... then slowly the love had turned to hate, but Sam was now wondering if it had ever really been hate.

* * *

No human could possibly understand the euphoria a vampire felt when tasting human blood. It was like the ultimate high. The ultimate pleasure. Often sex was even pale by comparison. The pain of the hunger was intense. More intense than anything a human could imagine. And the relief from that pain, that hunger, was just as intense.

Everything else seemed to fade away. Nothing else was important but the taste of the sweet red liquid pulsating beneath his tongue. All he could hear was the sound of the strong steady heart not so far away. That heartbeat quickening slightly as Dean drank but not with fear.

It was strange to feed this way. Without the intent to kill. Without the sharp tang of fear lacing the blood. Sam’s blood tasted different somehow. It seemed sweeter and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of the lack of fear, or simply because it was Sam. Those wonderings were brief however, fading quickly in the euphoria wrapping around him like a blanket as his hunger was slowly sated.

The feeling of Sam’s fingers petting gently through his hair made the vampire purr louder like a great cat. He sucked a little harder, yet still gently. Swallowing it all, refusing to let a single drop escape.

Slowly a warning in the back of his mind began to push its way through, urgent enough to break through the haze surrounding his mind. Something telling him to stop. He had to stop. He as taking too much. He would hurt… Sam…

Dean had just enough willpower to lightly lick across the wounds his teeth had made in the young man’s arm in order to stop the bleeding before he finally pulled back with a gasp. Panting hard as he forced himself to release the young man’s arm. Forced his fangs to retract.

The euphoria began to fade but the pain did not return. At least, it was not nearly as intense as before. Dean’s heart began to beat in a more natural rhythm as the fresh blood began to flow through his veins, beginning to force out the dead man’s blood. His breathing growing easier as well as some of the pallor from his skin began to fade.

Slowly Dean opened his eyes and they were no longer red but their natural green color. Staring at Sam worriedly.

“Sammy? Are you ok?”

* * *

Slowly the blood loss started to get to him, making him feel thirsty at first, and then slowly more and more lightheaded. Soon enough Dean stopped and there wasn't even pain when Dean let his arm go.

"I'm fine," Sam whispered, lying down gently on the bed, too tired to move to the clean one. "Just need a nap," Sam whispered, yawning widely. He was mildly dizzy and very tired, but other than that he didn't particularly feel sick.

Sam looked up at Dean from where he was lying down. "You look better," Sam said softly, smiling. "Good... that's good..." Sam yawned widely.

* * *

Even though Sam said he was fine Dean could tell the boy wasn’t. He could hear the tiredness in the young man’s voice. He could see the way Sam wavered slightly before he laid down next to him.

Dean had taken a lot from him. He knew that. But had he taken too much? Sam’s heartbeat didn’t sound slow or irregular, so maybe he would be fine. Maybe he just needed rest. But that didn't stop the guilt from clawing in the vampire even though he’d tried to tell Sam no.

It wasn’t like he’d resisted very hard. But he hadn’t been able to either.

Dean looked down at the boy next to him sadly. They were both a fucking mess. Sam needed to get cleaned up. They both did. It was still dangerous for the boy to be around so much vampire blood. Especially now that he had an open wound in his arm, even though it should begin to heal quickly.

But even though the vampire _was_ feeling a little better he was still in no condition to move. Dean didn’t really think Sam was either. So Dean merely sighed softly as he wrapped his arms gently around the young man and held him close.

“You should sleep then.” Dean whispered softly, brushing his lips lightly across the boy’s forehead. His own eyes already beginning to drift closed in exhaustion. 

* * *

Sam slept deeper than he had for years. Whether that was because of the blood loss or because of how close Dean was holding him, Sam didn't know. He woke up late in the morning because of his stomach growling dangerously, his thirst was driving him crazy and he felt a little hungover.

Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was Dean's face. God... Sam had missed him. He had missed everything about the vampire, but he hadn't realized just how much until Dean was in front of him.

He was still covered in blood, and Sam itched to get him cleaned and see Dean without looking like death. But he didn't want to wake him yet, so Sam gently and carefully slipped put from under Dean's warm embrace and headed to his duffel bag and downing an entire bottle of water. God... that felt good. He was only a little shaky on his feet, but he felt much better than last night.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was washed and changed into clean clothes. Sam's arm was almost healed and he smiled at that. It had felt strange to let Dean feed from him... it made him feel protective of the vampire, more so than usual...

Shaking his head, Sam went to Dean's side, sitting down carefully on the bed next to him.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said softly, "I'm going to go out for some food, alright? Don't go anywhere. I'll be back quickly," Sam said, his fingers curling around Dean's hand for a moment before letting go.

* * *

Dean slept deeply. Far more deeply than he should have allowed himself given recent events but his healing body simply would not allow for anything less while it recovered. His mind all but shutting down completely while his body worked to heal the massive damage done to it. His heartbeat slowed. His breathing came so soft and slow it was almost non-existent.

Every non-vital process in his body slowed to a crawl while the dead man’s blood was expelled from his body, his cuts closed, and his burns began to fade. The worst damage, aside from the dead man’s blood, was probably his skull fracture and concussion. That would take longer, and probably more blood, to heal fully but the pressure began to ease as the swelling lessened considerably.

Dean didn’t even stir when the young man beside him woke and slid out of his embrace. His eyelids didn’t even flutter at the sounds Sam made as the boy moved around the room. It was a testament to how close to death he really had been. But though he gave no indication he heard Sam’s words before the young man left the room, the boy’s sudden absence reached his mind deep on a subconscious level, pushing him back towards consciousness despite his body’s wishes.

The vampire’s eyes slowly slid open. It took him a little while to focus on his surroundings but he had an easier time of it than before. Everything was as he remembered it. The motel room. The blood stained sheets he was laying in. Only one thing was different. Sam was gone.

Panic sent a burst of adrenaline through him that allowed him to sit up much faster than he should have. A quick glance around the room showed everything to be in place. No sign of a break in or struggle. Sam’s things were still sitting next to the other bed, so wherever the boy had gone he couldn’t have gone far. Sam’s scent lingering in the air told the vampire the boy hadn’t been gone long either.

Dean forced the fear he felt for the boy back with great difficulty. Sam was sixteen now, not six. He didn’t need to worry about the boy wandering around on his own anymore. But then again… he did… if Marcus had tracked them this far already… Dean forcibly pushed down the panic when it tried to rise again. He’d give Sam five or ten minutes to return. If he didn’t _then_ the vampire would panic.

Right now Dean looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He needed to get cleaned up. Get the dead man’s blood off of him. Slowly Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up fully. A wave of vertigo washed over him but he managed to remain upright at least. So far so good. Standing up was harder. A lot harder. But he managed to stumble slowly to the bathroom with help from a supporting wall. He was doing fairly well considering…

If Sam hadn’t given him blood…

Guilt clawed in the vampire’s gut at that thought as he stripped off his remaining clothes and carefully climbed into the shower. He shouldn’t have let Sam do that. Even if it meant Dean dying he never should have put the boy in that kind of danger. Where Dean could have so easily killed him.

Danger… Dean almost snorted at the thought. Him feeding from Sam was only the tip of the iceberg of things he never should have let Sam do. He never should have let the boy save him. He should have convinced Sam to kill him or at least leave him behind in that cellar. Now Marcus would be looking for them. For Dean. For Sam because he’d helped Dean. If that sadistic bastard ever got his hands on the boy…

Dean felt a cold chill run down his spine despite the warmth of the water that pounded over his shoulders. He needed to get Sam away from him. He needed to help the boy cover up his scent and then go away, far away, from him. If Marcus was alive he’d never rest until he found Dean. Eventually he would find him. But if Dean could at least lead him away from Sam… it could work. But first he’d have to convince Sam…

The vampire actually laughed, bowing his head underneath the water as he rested his hands against the cool tiled wall. The way Sam had held a machete to his neck when he first saw him told him it shouldn’t be too hard to convince Sam to leave him behind, if not for everything that happened afterwards. He… just had to convince the young man that his first instinct to cut off his head had been the right one. 

* * *

So maybe Sam got a little greedy, but once he was at the diner, he couldn't stop himself from ordering sausages and bacon and eggs and then waffles with all the fruit and syrup and icing he could get on it. Two pies and a giant milkshake added to the combo and then Sam was carrying it all back to the motel room, stopping from time to time as a wave of dizziness hit him, making him feel like the ground was coming up to him but then he'd be left standing, surprised he wasn't on the ground already. Balance would return to him, the world would right itself again, and Sam couldn't help but reach into the bag and start sucking up the sweet, sugary milkshake on the way to the room.

Sam stepped inside the room, balancing the bags of food on his hip. The first thing he noticed that the bed was empty. Sam froze, mid suck on the milkshake straw.

Where was Dean?

Slowly, the sounds of the water thundering against tile seeped in and then Sam relaxed. Shower. Okay.

Sitting down on the clean bed, Sam dug into his food, finishing off the milkshake and licking off the sweet vanilla syrup off his fingers as he listened to the shower work inside. It was when Sam was stuffing his face with a sausage that Dean appeared in the bathroom doorway.

"Dean," Sam said as he chewed the sausage. "How're you feeling?"

With the food in his stomach, Sam felt amazingly better. Sugar was running through his system, giving him the energy to kickstart healing.

* * *

Dean finished his shower when he heard the door to the motel room open. It was damned difficult to get this much blood out of his hair and out from under his fingernails but the motel soap and shampoo did a fairly decent job at least. After rinsing off one final time he shut the knobs off and grabbed a towel from the small stack on the back of the toilet.

As he dried off he looked down at his soiled jeans with disgust. No way he was putting them back on, but he didn’t have any other clothes either. The vampire wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbed the plastic liner from out of the trashcan and threw his ruined clothes inside of it.

Steam escaped into the main room when he finally opened the bathroom door. Sam was there, sitting on the edge of the clean bed thankfully, wolfing down some food. He wasn’t surprised by Sam’s hunger given the blood loss the boy had suffered. What he was surprised by was the mount of junk food the young man was putting away.

Dean raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing about it. Sam’s eating habits were no longer his concern. He gave the boy a slight nod in greeting as he made his way carefully back into the main room. The shower made him feel much better but Dean was still very weak and shaky.

“Fine.” The vampire answered softly as he made his way over to the soiled bed. It might not be true but it was true enough. Dean then proceeded to pull off the blood soaked covers from the bed and shoved them into the plastic bag along with his clothes. At least the mattress beneath only had a few blood spots on it. It shouldn’t be too hard to get replacement sheets.

Dean tied off the bag and tossed it into the closet, shutting the door to cut down on the odor. He’d find a dumpster to toss them in later. Once he was finished Dean finally turned to the young man, feeling more than a little awkward, and unsure how to begin. Maybe with practical matters.

“Do you have anything I can wear?”

* * *

Dean still looked shaky, which made Sam worry. He wasn't sure if he could give any more blood... at least not anytime soon, and Dean looked weak still.

He really hoped Dean was out of danger.

Sam was halfway through licking off his fingers when Dean asked him about clothes. Eyes widening because he had forgotten about that entirely, Sam jumped up, regretting it instantly as his shaky brain didn't take well to the sudden change in altitude.

"Oh boy," Sam muttered as he got his bearings and went to his duffel bag, opening it. He turned to look at Dean, assessing his height and size before looking down at his bag again. A hoodie is usually fairly free size, so there was that, and then Sam pulled out a pair of sweatpants, handing them to Dean.

"Oh and..." Sam said as he reached into a side pocket and pulled out a pair of boxers, still in their original pack. "Lucky for you I went underwear shopping just a few days ago. So I have a new pair," Sam said, grinning as he gave Dean the clothes and went back to his bed, picking up his food and resuming his eating. He wasn't starving anymore, but he still wanted more food.

* * *

Dean’s eyes clouded in worry as he watched Sam stand and sway a little on his feet before he managed to recover. The boy managed to make it over to his duffel and found the vampire some clothes without incident, however even though a little vertigo was common with a high amount of blood loss, Dean didn’t like it.

He took the offered clothes, but set them down on his own bed before moving to Sam’s side when the young man sat down. Catching Sam’s chin in his hand he tilted the boy’s face up to look at him. Looking into his eyes. His fingers brushing lightly over young man’s pulse at his neck, checking just to make sure even though Dean could hear his heart. It was fine. Maybe a little quick. But fine. Giving a small nod, almost to himself, Dean released the young man and stepped back.

“You should probably take some vitamins. Iron specifically.” Dean suggested before he moved away. Dropping the towel around his waist and pulling on the clean clothes. Well, mostly clean. The hoodie had probably missed being washed but it didn’t reek. It simply smelled more like the boy who wore it, and Dean didn’t exactly mind that.

Finally the vampire turned back to the young man and took a seat on the edge of his own bed, looking at Sam.

“We should probably talk.” 

* * *

Being this close to Dean, staring into his green eyes and feeling his soft touch on his neck made something in Sam hold still. Sam ended up holding his breath, just watching Dean as he examined him before he moved away and Sam let the breath go. He didn't know what that was. He wasn't afraid of Dean. Last night proved that the vampire cared for him, or he would have just drank Sam dry and have been done with it.

Then why had his heart started hammering in his chest and Sam had stopped breathing for those few moments?

"Talk about what?" Sam asked, forcing himself to calm back down. He was just getting used to having Dean back. Right, that had to be it. He got excited because he had missed Dean so much and now he was hear and looking better and it was just excitement.

Dean was wearing Sam's clothes, and they seemed to fit him fine. Sam was glad he was as tall as he was, or his clothes would have been short on Dean. Sam didn't mean to notice, but Dean looked good in his clothing. He looked soft and warm and comfortable.

* * *

  
_Talk about what?_

It was such a simple, and oh so very difficult question to answer. There were so many things Dean wanted to say. So many things he wanted to ask Sam. Like simple questions that he’d once asked Sam nearly every day, questions he’d almost taken for granted until he no longer had the answers. How had Sam been? What had he been doing? Was he happy? For six years he could only wonder about those answers and now he had a chance to find out.

But they didn’t have time for such pleasantries. No matter how much Dean wanted to spend hours, or even days, ‘catching up’ and have Sam tell him about his life. Of course the other questions Dean wanted to ask… needed to ask… were much less simple.

Dean sighed heavily. Leaning forward a little and letting his elbows rest on his knees. Staring down at his hands clasped between them.

“You were looking for me.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement. Of course Sam had been looking for him. He had no idea how the boy had found him but what other reason would Sam be there?

“Judging by your… hello… you wanted me dead.” Again, another statement rather than a question. There was no judgement in his words. No accusation. He didn’t blame Sam for wanting to kill him. The boy had plenty of reasons to.

The vampire finally looked up at the young man.

“I take it that’s changed? For now at least. Then what do you want?” 

* * *

Sam froze at Dean's question. Sam had no answers for that. Not yet. His mind was a jumble of conflicting thoughts and feelings and Sam had absolutely no idea what he wanted or why.

Just one thing was clear. Sam can't kill Dean. He didn't know the reason for it, or even the beginning of an explanation, but he knew he can't kill Dean, and that he never wanted Dean to go away again. Maybe one day, Sam will know the reason but not right now.

Sam got up and went to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders and held him tightly, burying his face in Dean's neck. "I want to stay with you," Sam said quietly, heartfelt. "I missed you." And that's all it came down to. Sam had missed Dean. For six years Sam had just missed Dean every single day, and now that Dean was back Sam didn't know what else to do.

All Sam had wanted for that long was right here. There was nothing more to want.

* * *

When Sam froze like a deer in headlights at his question Dean wasn’t sure what to think. Hadn’t the boy thought at all what he wanted? He could understand the confusion Sam must be having in regards to his feelings for him. But surely Sam had thought a _little_ about where this was going… or where he wanted it to go…

But according to the blank look the boy was giving him apparently Sam hadn’t thought about it at all.

When Sam suddenly stood up Dean leaned back, a questioning look on his face. One that morphed to shock when Sam hugged him and whispered those words into his ear. _I want to stay with you…_

Dean had been hoping for those words six years ago. Back when he’d given the ten-year-old boy the choice of coming with him or staying with the hunters. Before Dean had realized the life they’d been living was a foolish dream. Before he took the choice away from Sam and left him behind… because it was for the best for Sam.

The vampire closed his eyes tightly as a wave of pain washed through him making his breath catch in his throat like jagged glass. He wanted so badly to hold Sam, tell him it was all right, to tell the boy that’s what he wanted too, that he’d missed Sam so much. But he couldn’t do any of those things. Because it was dangerous for Sam to stay with him. Even more so now than it had been back then.

So instead of hugging Sam he placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gently pushed the young man away as Dean stood up. He couldn’t conceal the sadness in his eyes even if he wanted to when he looked at Sam and shook his head.

“That’s not possible, Sam. I… I need to leave. And you need to go home. It’s not safe.” Dean said, releasing Sam’s shoulders and turning away from the boy. Stepping around Sam and moving towards the door no matter how much it pained him to do so. 

* * *

Everything went wrong so fast...

Sam didn't even have time to think. One moment he was holding Dean, hugging him tightly, and the next he was being pushed away and the vampire was stepping around him, heading for the door. What the hell? Why was Dean... but he said he had to leave...

But why?

It was too reminiscent of when Dean had left him last time... telling him that this is for the best and that Sam should go with the hunters.

"No!" Sam snapped, getting up before he even knew what he was doing, reaching out a hand and grabbing Dean's tightly. "No, you're not leaving," Sam said with conviction. "I won't let you. Not again."

Sam started pulling on Dean's hand, trying to pull him back further into the room. "You'll have to knock me out to leave me behind, and then all you'll achieve is me hunting you again. And I'll find you, like I found you this time, and I'll do it again, and again, and again until you realize that you're fucking well stuck with me!" Sam was breathing heavily by the time he was done ranting and raging, his eyes narrowed and sharp with challenge.

Sam couldn't lose Dean again. No. He refused. Dean and him, they were going to live together from now on. Never mind that Sam had originally wanted to kill Dean. And he still wanted revenge for John. He just... he didn't know how to exact revenge while at the same time getting Dean to stay with him...

* * *

He’d known it wasn’t going to be that easy, but still he had hoped that for once Sam might listen to him. For once the boy might be reasonable. Instead Sam was grabbing him and shouting at him. Promising to keep hunting him despite Dean’s wishes. Despite the vampire’s warning.

Where was all this coming from? Some kind of twisted abandonment issues? Why did Sam want to stay with him so badly? A day ago the boy had been holding a machete against his neck, hate burning in his eyes. Now Sam was clinging to him and saying Dean was stuck with him.

Hadn’t the hunter he’d left the boy with given Sam a good life? Had the hunter treated the boy badly, making him want to run away and look for a monster instead?

Unfortunately Dean didn’t really have time to find out the reasons why or to deal with all of Sam’s issues. He needed to get Sam away from him as fast as possible. Dean needed to run, which would be hard enough in his weakened state. But he couldn’t do it and worry about Sam following him too.

So he ‘reasoned’ with the boy the only way he could right now. In a split second Dean grabbed the young man by the neck and shoved him up against the wall. Not hard enough to hurt but definitely hard enough to get his attention. His eyes shown red and his fangs descended with a growl. Reminding Sam that he wasn’t talking to some cuddly mythical ‘good’ vampire that the boy had once claimed him to be.

He was a monster.

“Or, I could just kill you right now.” Dean growled menacingly. It was a completely empty threat. They both knew it. But if it was enough to remind him why Sam should hate him…

Unfortunately a moment later Dean realized he’d severely overestimated his recovery as his vision started to blur and he swayed dangerously as a wave of vertigo hit him hard.

* * *

Sam only had his blood loss to blame for his slowed reflexes. Any other time, Sam would have had a knife out and against Dean's throat before he even ended up with his back pressed to the wall and the vampire's hand on his throat. Dean's eyes were red and his fangs bared and Sam felt the threat in his gut. His one hand came up, wrapped around Dean's wrist and the other was pressed against his chest, pushing him back as much as he could.

"Then why don't you?" Sam hissed back, calling his bluff because they both knew he wouldn't. And that knowledge messed with Sam. He knew Dean cared for him, knew that he wouldn't hurt him... but he was a monster, right? He hurt people, drained their blood just to sustain himself and...

And he cared for Sam.

Before Sam could figure out what the fuck Dean was trying to prove, Dean's grip on his throat weakened and then he was swaying, his weakness catching up to him. Sam grabbed him under his arms purely by instinct, even though he, himself, wasn't in top shape. Regardless, the food in his stomach helped him manage Dean's weight long enough to lead them both to the clean bed.

"Lay down," Sam said, focusing on helping Dean for the moment as he pushed Dean into lying down. Then, as Dean was lying there, Sam leaned over Dean, staring at him with narrowed eyes. "And don't ever do that again. I'm not six years old anymore, Dean. I'm a hunter. Remember that." Just like Dean's threat, Sam's was empty as well. Sam was sure he couldn't kill Dean, but he sure as fuck could defend himself.

* * *

It was embarrassing really. Having to be practically carried back to bed surely did not support the menacing dangerous image the vampire had been trying to portray. It also made another thing clear. Sam was right. Right now he was stuck with the young man. For the next few hours, or even days, Dean was as weak as a kitten. He would never be able to outrun Sam in his current condition. He definitely wouldn’t be able to outrun Marcus. The older vampire was surely hunting him by now… hunting them…  


  
Dean didn’t fight it when Sam pushed him down to the bed, however at Sam’s little reminder the vampire couldn’t help but smile. However there was no warmth in that smile. It was bitter and pained and more a grimace than anything else.

“And I’m a monster. Remember that.” Dean replied. Remembering all too well what he’d tried to explain to a young boy of ten years old. Hunters killed monsters. That was just the way of things, and Dean was _not_ a good monster. Sam must have finally realized that at some point over the years they’d been apart. The boy had held a machete to his throat after all.

But now was not the time to debate with the boy how Sam should have killed him when he’d had the chance. They had bigger things to worry about right now. If Sam wouldn’t kill him, if Sam wouldn’t let him run, if Sam wouldn’t leave him, then that meant they had to leave together, and they had to do it now.

“We can’t stay here. He’ll… they’ll be coming for me. They’re probably tracking us right now. We have to cover our scent and get out of here.”

* * *

Sam glared back, eyes narrowed at Dean's reminder that he was a monster. Yes, Sam knew that. He knew better than anyone. He had seen the fangs, the red glowing eyes... he had heard the snarls and the growling and felt the bite. He knew that Dean was a monster...

He also knew that he wasn't a 'good' monster. Not like he had thought when he was younger. Not like he had thought for a long time before understanding reared its ugly head. But at the same time... Dean wasn't the monster he seemed to think. He wasn't one of those dark things that prowled at night, attacking anyone who crossed their path, regardless if it was a woman or child. If that night another vampire had come for Sam instead of Dean, Sam was sure he would have become a meal right then and wouldn't have lived to see another day.

"Trust me, I remember," Sam whispered, straightening up with a wince as his heart beat faster with just that small amount of exertion. Hearing Dean's words, Sam's attention returned to their current predicament. "That lady vampire? I think between the two of us, we can take her," Sam said even as he got up to pick up the few belongings that were laying around. He opened his duffel and stuffed them in there. Sam knew when Dean sounded nervous, and when he talked about this 'thing' coming for them, Dean sounded nervous as hell. Sam never knew Dean to run, unless he was running away from Sam which, okay was not exactly fair but...

Anyway, so Sam didn't know Dean to run from his problems. In fact, Sam had some very vivid memories of Dean running head first into a fucking _wolf_ as well as fighting demons over and over again, coming back to the house bloody and wounded but still not scared. So if Dean was telling him they had to run, Sam was going to take his word for it until it was safe enough to figure out exactly _why_ they had to run.

* * *

Dean didn’t answer the boy. The less Sam knew the better. If he told the boy about Marcus, about his past, the fool child might get it into his head that he had to ‘save’ Dean somehow. Just like he had in that cellar, when Dean had been bound and helpless. He couldn’t help but wonder if Sam had found him any other way, if the boy had just seen him walking down the street or in a dark alley if the boy would have finished what he’d started. If he would have taken off Dean’s head like the monster he was instead of dragging him out of that basement and feeding him…

It didn’t matter now, he supposed. What’s done was done. Just like when Dean had killed Sam’s father. Now Dean needed to figure out how to fix it. Hopefully the vampire would handle this situation with Sam better than he had the first time.

He had to convince Sam that the best thing for the boy to do if he wasn’t going to kill him was leave Dean behind. Help Sam find whatever kind of closure the boy was looking for with him and make him go home.

But the first thing he had to do was throw Marcus off their scent. The ancient vampire already knew Dean’s scent well. Sam’s scent would be all over that basement now. The same with this place. The vampire thought up a plan as he watched Sam clean up his belongings then finally pushed himself up weakly when he came to a decision.

“Sam. I need you to go to a convenience store or gas station and buy a packet of cigarettes. Doesn’t matter what brand. Also get the strongest smelling car air freshener you can find, and a bottle of bleach too if you can find one.” Dean told the boy as he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He could rest once they were back in the car. Right now there was work to do.

As he looked at the boy he saw Sam open his mouth, probably to question him to death, and Dean held up his hand to stop him. “I’ll explain soon, just do it.”

The boy didn’t look happy but he grabbed his wallet and headed out the door anyway. Leaving the keys to the impala behind. Perfect. Dean got up and grabbed the keys. He went outside and opened up the car’s trunk, lifting up the false bottom he’d found years ago. Inside was what he’d hoped to find, ever prepared, and part of a hunter’s regular arsenal was a large tub of lighter fluid.

Dean grabbed it along with a pack of matches he found in the glove compartment of the car and went back into the motel room. The vampire quickly worked pouring the lighter fluid on any flammable surface, especially the rug and beds. He opened the windows to make sure the fire didn’t burn itself out and then struck the matches. Watching to make sure the fire got good and started before walking out the door.

He was waiting for Sam outside, leaning against the car, the smell of smoke already beginning to fill the air. Dean refused to answer any of Sam’s questions as he took the items Sam had bought. Opening up the bottle of bleach and pouring it on the sidewalk and the pavement around the car.

“Get in.” Dean told the boy once he was done. Moving to the passenger side of the car and climbing inside. He opened up the air freshener and hung it from the car’s mirror while Sam started the car. Already he could hear the sirens from the fire department approaching but they wouldn’t arrive in time to extinguish the flames before they destroyed the evidence of them being here. Finally Dean opened up the pack of cigs, they were the cheap kind, smelled awful, and while he hated to do it he lit up three of them inside the car. Inhaling on each of them just enough to make sure they burning well before stuffing them in the ashtray.

“Drive for as long as you can. At least twelve hours. If I’m not awake by then, wake me up and I’ll take over. Burn one of these every fifteen minutes until the pack is gone. Keep to the highways, where there’s a lot of traffic. Hopefully it will be enough to cover up our scent.” Dean told the boy finally, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes as exhaustion finally began to overwhelm him.

* * *

Alright, this was really damn annoying. Sam glared as Dean ordered him to go out and get him supplies (cigarettes, bleach and a goddamn car air freshner of all things) and then refused to answer his questions about it. Fine, Sam will get him his cigarettes and shit. God knew how the vampire's brain worked.

He had only been gone maybe ten minutes or so but when he got back, it was to the motel burning and people screaming, running out of their rooms. Sam's eyes widened.

"What the hell? What happened?!" Sam refused to believe that it was just coincidence that in the time Sam had been gone, the fire had started, not to mention it seemed to be concentrated more in their room. Dean, of course, refused to answer. "Dean, come on! What's going on?"

Instead of answering him, Dean started pouring the bleach out on the pavement and sidewalk. Sam watched, confusion in every movement. "Dean...?" And then the vampire was ordering him to get into the car and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But after this I'm done playing your goddamn dog," Sam muttered as he got into the driver's seat, watching as Dean opened the air freshner. Sam wrinkled his nose. The strongest one he could find promised the soothing sent of fucking _Lime trees_. But honestly, it seemed to smell like ass. Sam started the car and pulled out, leaving the parking lot just as the fire trucks turned around the corner.

Before Sam could ask Dean anything, he was instructing him to burn a cigarette every fifteen minutes and to keep to the highways and yadda yadda. Then he let the smallest bit of information out... covering up their scent, huh? But why was Dean running from the vamps? Sure, he was weak right now, but soon enough he'll recover and then there won't be a problem.

Forgoing any questioning for now, Sam let Dean sleep as he followed his instructions. Mostly because Sam figured now was as good a time as any to try a cigarette. He had never had the guts to. Mostly because of all the PSAs about lung cancer and stuff but running from some kind of vampire monster that Dean was trying very hard to avoid made Sam wonder if lung cancer would even have a chance to catch up to him, considering the kind of life he led. So he pulled out one of the cancer sticks, lit it up as he pulled on it and then he took his first breath of toxic smoke. Surprisingly, it didn't make him cough unless he took a too deep breath, and mostly it just made him relaxed.

Keeping to the highways, time passed fast. Sam stopped twice to use the bathroom and raid the convenience store, and ate the junk food while he drove. It was nearly midnight by the time exhaustion started to seep into his body and Sam pulled over on the side of the now mostly silent highway, save for a few random cars now and then.

"Hey, Dean," Sam reached out, resting his hand lightly on Dean's shoulder to wake him. "Think you can take over?" As soon as Dean was in the driver's seat, Sam curled up in the backseat, his head resting on the duffel bag as he fell deep into sleep nearly instantaneously.

* * *

The near overpowering citrus mixed with ammonia smelling air freshener combined with the stink of burning tobacco certainly was not the most pleasant of smells to fall asleep to. But since he could barely smell Sam anymore and he was sitting right next to the young man then Dean was sure it was working.

The smoke from the fire at the motel would hopefully cover up which way they’d gone after leaving. The exhaust and other fumes from the highways, not to mention the scents of a thousand other people traveling along the same roads, would also help dilute their own scents. Hopefully it would be enough.

It had to be enough. Dean didn’t know what else to do.

Despite all the fears and uncertainties racing around in his brain, not to mention the stench, the vampire fell asleep rather easily. Pure exhaustion pulling him under into a much needed healing sleep. Shutting down all his unnecessary bodily functions so he could focus almost solely on recovering the strength he’d lost.

It was risky. He would be extremely vulnerable like this, but it was the fastest way for him to recover. If Sam changed his mind and decided to take off his head, Dean would have been dead before he even recognized the danger. But it was a risk he had to take. He needed to heal quickly to outrun Marcus.

When he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder, his survival instincts kicked in and started pushing him towards consciousness despite his body’s unwillingness to wake. He checked the time and realized he’s been sleeping for almost fourteen hours now. He was better. Not nearly a hundred percent yet, but definitely better.

The vampire nodded when Sam asked him if he was well enough to take over driving. Climbing out of the car and stretching gingerly to work out some of the stiffness in his muscles from being in one position for too long. He took Sam’s place in the driver’s seat and waited for the boy to get settled into the back before he pulled the car back onto the road. Glancing in the rear view mirror every once in a while, both to check to see if Sam was still all right and to make sure they weren’t being followed.

He couldn’t even remember when he’d last been this weak. If Sam hadn’t given him blood, he might be dead by now. Surely that had not been Marcus’ plan. No, the old sadistic vampire had probably planned to give him his own blood, and Dean would have been too weak and hungry to refuse.

The difference between fresh human blood and a vampire sire’s blood… it was like the difference between marijuana and heroin. To a vampire, human blood was one of the most addictive highs of all time. But a sire’s blood… it was so much better and worse.

It was one of the ways Marcus had kept him enslaved for all those years. He hated the man but he’d stayed with him. No matter what humiliation Marcus put him through, no matter how disgusted he was by the man’s touch, he’d endured it all. All for that one taste of his blood afterward. It was one of the reasons he knew he had to kill Marcus, not just run away from him, because the pull to go back would be almost to strong to ignore. Even knowing Marcus was dead, or so he’d thought, it had been so very hard for Dean to run and keep running. He had brutally slaughtered so many people trying to cope with the withdrawals from the old one’s blood…

If Sam hadn’t come for him Marcus would have had him begging for him even as the bastard tortured him. Dean shuddered at the very thought.

Dean drove until morning. The sun coming up over the horizon making him wince and wish he had a pair of sunglasses at least. He was more sensitive to the sunlight than usual because of the dead man’s blood and his hunger, which was beginning to burn in his veins again. He needed to feed again soon. He couldn’t recover otherwise.

He glanced at the boy still sleeping in the back seat of the car. The boy who was now a hunter. The boy Sam had been had looked the other way in regards to Dean’s eating habits. He had a feeling the hunter Sam had become would not be so forgiving. It was a lose/lose situation. If he didn’t feed he would only grow weaker again, if he did feed and Sam found out the boy would probably kill him.

The vampire debated with himself for another hour, until he knew that he better make a decision soon before Sam woke up and he lost his chance. So finally Dean pulled the car into small rest stop off the highway. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but not many. Not many witnesses to worry about. He could grab someone coming out of the restrooms and drag them into the nearby woods, he might not be full strength right now but he was strong enough to overpower the average human. Leaving the body in the woods it could be hours or even days before it was found.

With one last look into the back seat, Dean got out of the car as quietly as possible. Heading towards the men’s room. 

* * *

Sam knew better than to fall asleep deeply, but the movement of the car lulled him in anyway and he continued dozing through the sun rising, and then eventually when the car pulled in to the rest stop. Sam stirred, but it wasn't until the car door shut that Sam actually woke. Blinking slowly, he sat up, looking out the window just in time to see Dean disappear into the bathroom.

Nervousness fluttered in Sam's stomach when he couldn't see Dean anymore. He tried to convince himself that the nerves were there because he was worried Dean would hurt someone, but really, it was more about the fact that he was worried Dean would disappear again. Quickly getting out of the car, Sam checked the hunting knife hidden in his boot one more time before he headed towards the bathroom, minutes behind Dean.

He opened the door and stepped in, finding Dean instantly.

"Hey," Sam said, looking at him straight on. "Need to piss? Me too," Sam said pointedly, raising an eyebrow to let Dean know that if he was up to anything other than actually relieving himself, then Sam was onto him. Still looking at him, Sam went to a urinal. He wasn't lying about the needing to piss bit.

* * *

The rest stop definitely wasn’t one of the nicest Dean had ever seen. Graffiti covered the walls, it was dirty, and it smelled like urine. But the vampire didn’t give a shit about any of that. All he cared about was the heartbeats he heard inside. Two to be exact. One man standing at the urinals and the other washing his hands at the sink when Dean entered.

He couldn’t have planned it better himself. Now the only choice he had to make was which man to kill. He could grab the one man as he left the bathroom, drag him into the woods, drain him, and leave the body there. Or he could wait till one left and kill the other man here in the bathroom. He could hide the body in one of the stalls, where it would be found sooner, sure, but it wasn’t as though Dean was planning on staying for very long.

Unfortunately the choice was taken away from him when the door opened again, barely five minutes after it had swung shut behind the vampire. Dean didn’t even have to look to know who it was and the look he gave Sam when he turned slowly to the boy was anything but amused. In fact, it was down right hostile.

What the hell? Had Sam only been pretending to be asleep? No, Dean would have known. But it still seemed all too coincidental for Sam to suddenly wake up at the _exact moment_ Dean got out of the car when he’d slept through everything else. Either Dean hadn’t been as quiet as he thought, too distracted by hunger, Sam’s instincts were better than he thought, or some deity was having one hell of a joke at the vampire’s expense. Either way, Dean was not happy.

Sam’s little quip about needing to piss sure as hell didn’t improve the vampire’s mood. Dean didn’t answer the boy. Instead he stormed back out of the restroom, pushing past the young man roughly in the process.

As the vampire got back in the car, slamming the driver’s side door in the process in anger, he had a very strong urge to simply drive off and leave Sam here. It would be easy. He had the keys. It would take the boy some time to find other means of transportation. Dean could head back the way they had come. Leave a trail for Marcus to follow. Lead him away from Sam. It was very, very, tempting.

In fact, the keys were in the ignition, the engine started, and his hand already on the gearshift before Dean had even fully decided. 

* * *

Sam saw Dean storm out of the bathroom and that confirmed Sam's suspicion. Dean was looking for a meal. It was obvious in the way he was getting crankier by the moment. If Dean wasn't here to pee, then he was here for the two other men in the room. One of who had just walked out and the other was washing his hands at the sink.

Sighing, Sam finished his business and washed his hands and then splashed some water on his face, waking himself up fully and getting his thoughts back in order. The backseat of the Impala was comfortable and all, but Sam was tall, taller than most boys his age and when he slept in the back he had to curl up in uncomfortable ways. A bed was definitely preferable.

He stepped out of the bathroom and saw that Dean was in the car already. Sam's stomach rumbled and he looked back at Dean in the driver's seat and then the convenience store five steps away from where Sam was. The place was empty, save for the cashier, and so Sam was fairly sure if he stepped in for a moment, he could grab something to eat and be out of the place in no more than five minutes.

Decision made, Sam quickly ducked into the store, grabbing a sandwich and a bottle of juice before paying the cashier and heading out, eyes on his sandwich as his stomach rumbled louder. As soon as he looked up though, he saw the Impala pulling out of the parking spot and turning, heading _away_ from Sam rather than towards him.

For a moment, Sam stood there, frozen. Dean was leaving him behind... again, and Sam just stood there before a wave of rage hit him and he stuffed his sandwich into his jacket pocket, not caring that it'll destroy it, dropped the juice bottle and then ran perpendicular to the car's direction, jumping over the fence that separated the road from the parking lot and then he was right in front of the car, hands held out as though he could stop it.

Sam was breathing hard from a combination of running and anger as he watched the car approach, and then stop. Well, at least Dean wasn't planning on killing him... not right now anyway.

Keeping his eyes on Dean, Sam walked around to the passenger side and got in, all in silence. He stayed quiet for a long time, trying to figure out what just happened. Dean clearly wanted to feed, and Sam had messed up his plans. Sam was _not_ sorry about that. Then, Dean had taken Sam's car and tried to leave Sam behind in some random ass truck stop, without any of his clothes and weapons other than the ones Sam was already carrying.

Needless to say, Sam was pissed.

Sam turned to look at Dean, noting how he hadn't aged at all. He was exactly as how Sam remembered him from so long ago... but this wasn't the Dean Sam remembered. He remembered the Dean who learned to cook just so he could feed Sam good food, who helped Sam with homework and let him sleep next to him on the nights he had a nightmare. "If you feed from _anyone_ without their permission," Sam said quietly, but his voice was deep and serious. "I'll kill you." Sam licked his lips. "If you leave me behind again, I'll follow you until I find you. And then I'll kill you."

Sam couldn't find that Dean in this one anymore. And maybe Sam had just been looking for the old Dean... maybe that was the reason why he couldn't kill the vampire. But the more he spent time with this Dean, the more chances were that he'll finally be able to put a knife to that throat.

Among all that anger though, Sam still found himself looking for the old Dean. He missed him. He wanted him back... he wanted the comfort and safety he had with that Dean.

So far it seemed like maybe this was more of a hunt than Sam wanted it to be. The question was, was Dean irredeemable?

* * *

Dean warred in indecision, his fingers so tight on the gearshift and steering wheel they were bone white and he knew he was risking damaging the car at that point. But he couldn’t seem to reign in his irritation… no… more than irritation. He was down right pissed off at Sam right now.

The boy had always known what he was. Sam knew what he was when he’d spent all this time tracking him down. The boy knew what he was when he’d found him in that basement and had the chance to behead him. He knew what he was when he’d decided to free him instead of kill him. Sam had known what he was when… when the boy had saved his life by giving him his own blood.

Saving his life at that moment, yes. But Sam obviously didn’t care enough about him to let him recover fully. To regain his strength, to heal himself, he needed blood. He needed a hell of a lot of blood. Far more than Sam could ever give him, unless he drained the boy dry.

Without it, not only would he not heal, but he would probably start to slide downhill again very quickly. Until the pain of the hunger became unbearable. Before it drove him to madness. And after that, if he still did not feed, a very slow and agonizing death. Was that what Sam really wanted for him? Had the boy really only ‘saved’ him because he wanted to watch him suffer slowly until he died?

Everything he knew… everything he thought he knew about Sam railed against that line of thinking. But he was not in the mood to be very charitable at the moment. Part of that was the hunger. Part of it was plain being pissed off at the young hunter. So when Sam finally came out of the bathroom and instead of heading towards the car to leave he turned to the small convenience store attached to the rest stop…

That pretty much made Dean’s decision right there.

Dean barely waited several heart beasts after he saw the young man disappear into the store before he was throwing the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking space. Apparently he misjudged how long it would take the boy in the store, or he misjudged Sam’s determination not to be left behind. Because as much of a hurry the vampire was in to get out of the rest stop, somehow the boy was running _in front_ of the car. Standing in the middle of the road in front of the impala like a disgusting game of chicken looking just as pissed off as Dean felt. Who would blink first?

Unsurprisingly Dean slammed on the breaks, not even coming close to hitting the boy. As Sam rounded the car to the passenger side, Dean held his gaze. His expression as hard as stone. Perhaps he could have sped away when Sam was no longer standing in front of the car but he didn’t. He waited until the boy got inside and the door shut before he threw the car into gear again and stepped on the gas. The tires screeching a little as he quickly peeled out of the rest stop parking lot.

After that, Dean didn’t look at Sam. The boy said nothing, and neither did the vampire. Dean simply stared out the front windshield. Wincing a little at the sunlight but otherwise showing no hit of emotion. When Sam finally did speak, Dean wasn’t all that surprised by the boy’s words. A harsh bark of humorless laughter escaped Dean then as he turned to look at the boy. The smirk on his face cold and taunting. His eyes blood red and hard. Staring at Sam without speaking for a moment before he turned his attention back to the road. But his message, his challenge, was there. 

* * *

Sam's anger had been real. As he had said those things to Dean, he had been angry. Dean had been about ready to leave him behind. He had been ready to kill another innocent human being who's only fault was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Mostly though, Sam was angry that Dean had almost left him behind. If Sam had taken just a minute more, he wouldn't have been able to intercept Dean in time.

Was Dean really going to leave him behind?

The challenge in Dean's eyes and the cold, hard edge to them told Sam that yes, he was. As Sam continued to look at the way Dean smiled at him, so much hatred in his eyes, and Sam wondered when exactly Dean had started hating him this much.

And why did Sam even care?! Dean was a vampire! He was not a 'good' vampire as much as his ten year old self had believed. This man... no, _monster_ killed other humans to keep himself alive.

Then why did the sight of so much hate in those eyes, and the thought of Dean driving away from Sam, hurt so much? It shouldn't hurt! Sam shouldn't give two fucks about how much Dean liked him... or didn't, in this case. Sam should want to kill him. Sam should do his fucking _job_!

All Sam did now was threaten Dean, but he did nothing else. He just warned and warned and warned.

Sam's fingers curled into a fist, his blunt nails digging half moons into his palm. If Dad was here... John would have killed Dean without a second thought. And Sam was sitting inches away from Dean, a knife hidden in his boots, and he was doing nothing. Sam wasn't a hunter... he was a poor imitation of one.

"I missed you, ya know?" Sam said, the words out before Sam could think about them. He tore his eyes away from Dean and looked at the road. "I missed you so fucking much that I just..." Sam shook his head, looking at Dean again. "But you're not him, are you? You're nothing like the Dean I remember." Sam's voice had grown hard by the end of that sentence, and so had his eyes. The softly smiling image of the old Dean superimposed on the man sitting next to him for a brief moment, and then shimmered and disappeared, leaving behind a red eyed man with the taunting smile.

* * *

Dean hadn’t been expecting Sam to say anything else. At least, he hadn’t expected Sam to say _that_ to him. The hard mask of Dean’s face broke. Just a little. Just for a split second. Before Dean schooled his expression back into that of a hateful bastard with practiced ease. He doubted Sam would have seen it even if he were looking at him it happened so fast, but Dean cursed himself all the same for letting himself slip.

He couldn’t let himself slip. It was bad enough before, in that motel room Dean had so recently burned down, when the boy had taken care of him, shared his blood with him, curled up next to him to sleep… Dean couldn’t let Sam see that side of himself anymore. It would only make it harder… for both of them… to do what needed to be done.

For a long time Dean didn’t answer Sam’s observations and he certainly didn’t show how much the hard edge of the boy’s voice cut him. He should be thankful he was driving right now and Sam couldn’t exactly kill him without them getting into an accident.

“What exactly did you think was going to happen when you found me?” Dean asked. His voice cold and emotionless, just as hard as Sam’s was, and just a hint of mockery. “Did you think I was going to make you macaroni and cheese? Help you with your homework? Give you a cookie and a pat on the head?”

It was cruel. It was meant to be. But Dean wasn’t finished yet.

“You have no idea who or what I am. I’ve lived for over two hundred years. You knew me for four. You know nothing about me. I’ve done things you can’t even imagine. You were nothing but an amusing distraction to me. A hobby.” Dean turned to look at Sam again briefly. “A pet.”

He glared hard at the young man for a moment, waiting for his words to sink in before he turned his attention back to the road. His next words almost dismissing.

“One I no longer find amusing.”

* * *

Sam forced himself to not take what Dean said to heart. This Dean was vicious. Cruel. Nothing like the man he remembered, and Sam didn't want _this_ Dean to ruin his memory of the man he had known so long ago.

But when Dean called Sam a pet, his fragile control over himself snapped.

"Pet?" Sam asked. That word... equating Sam to an animal. That he had meant nothing more to Dean than a fucking animal... It dirtied the memory he had of Dean holding him tight, fingers in Sam's hair to try and soothe him after a nightmare, the memory of Dean holding his hand at the bus stop when he was terrified about starting at a new school, the memory of Dean kissing his forehead fondly before telling him to go to bed.

" _Pet_?" Sam asked again, more poison in his voice. He was no one's pet. He was an independent, strong _man_ who could hold his own against ghosts, vampires, and monsters. He was no one's fucking _pet_! Under all that rage, Sam's heart broke. No, he hadn't expected Dean to make him fucking mac and cheese, or pat his head or whatever. He _had_ , somewhere deep inside, expected Dean to at least be a little glad to see him.

Sam was shaking with the force with which he was trying to control himself. If he killed Dean now, they'll get into a crash and Sam would go out as well. He had to be smart about this. He had to control himself, and not reach for that knife.

_Don't do it, Sam_.

Sadly, his inside voice was Dean's. And right after that, the voice called him a pet.

Before Sam knew what he was doing, he had his fingers curled into a fist and his knuckles were pressing against the soft muscle of Dean's cheek and nose, feeling the hard bone of teeth underneath. Sam hadn't held back. His punch had held as much force as he could muster, and all he could do was commend himself that at least he hadn't gotten his knife out.

"AM I AMUSING ENOUGH NOW?!" Sam yelled, not caring as the car veered. He didn't give a fuck anymore, swallowed by his anger.

* * *

Dean wasn’t all that surprised by the punch. In fact, he was a little bit surprised it had taken Sam this long to deck him. Some things never changed. He couldn’t help but remember when he’d first snatched the boy, how Sam had fought, kicked, and fucking _bit_ him. Of course he remembered his own reaction after the fact that still shamed him even after all these years.

All these thoughts flashed through his head in an instant as his head snapped to the side and the car swerved at the same time. Thankfully there was no oncoming traffic in the other lane.

The pain that followed was really only an afterthought after he managed to regain control of the car. The throbbing in his cheek and jaw now matching a growing migraine that had been building behind his eyes all morning, mostly related to the lingering dead man’s blood inside him combined with hunger and the sunlight.

Blood dripped from his nose, but at least the boy hadn’t managed to break his nose this time. Small favors. Dean licked away the drop when it reached his lips but he didn’t turn to look at Sam.

“Good. You finally understand. Maybe now I can stop repeating myself.” The vampire finally said, almost casually. As if he was bored. His voice devoid of all emotion. 

* * *

Sam sat there for a moment, frustration rising up inside him. Dean had just shaken off his punch like it was nothing. And then he had the audacity to act casual after it. Sam's breathing grew shorter, harsher as anger, frustration and sadness warred inside him. He didn't know what he felt more keenly. Was it the burn of rage? Or the dull ache of heartache?

"Fuck you," Sam said quietly, voice shaking slightly from all the emotions.

What was Sam supposed to do now? The urge to kick Dean out of the car and drive away was strong... overwhelming in fact, but as soon as Sam started to open his mouth to say it, he remembered how if he let Dean out of his sight now, Dean will go and feed on someone.

That person's death will be blood on Sam's hands. He can't let Dean loose. He'll kill more and more people and Sam would be directly responsible for it. And Sam couldn't stand another moment with Dean in this car anymore.

He should just kill Dean. Get it over with. He looked at Dean for a moment, imagined grabbing his knife and slicing through the soft skin of Dean's neck, feeling the knife then move onto cartilage and vessels and then finally hit the bone at the back. He imagined how the blood will spurt out, coating everything inside the car and Sam. He imagined the light in Dean's eyes dulling and then disappearing.

It wasn't fair that the scene made Sam feel horrified rather than triumphant. Every other vampire he had decapitated, Sam had felt nothing but elation for putting down another monster... but the thought of killing Dean, even now, made Sam's chest ache.

Sam can't kick Dean out, and won't kill him. Where did that leave him?

Nowhere.

So Sam sat there silently, looking out of the window. He tried to get his thoughts under control, tried to be logical about things. He wondered about a solution, one that wouldn't make Sam responsible for people's deaths and one that won't lead him to kill Dean. But as much as he wondered, he couldn't come up with one.

In the end, the only conclusion he could come to was that he really, really wanted the old Dean back. And that was all.


	8. Chapter 8

  


Dean remembered when he used to scold Sam for cursing. Dean didn't now, of course. He didn't even look at the boy and no more words passed between them. Dean continued to drive. Finding some relief when the sun rose above the line of the windshield, at least it wasn't shining directly into his eyes anymore, but it wasn't much. He was exhausted and only growing more so by the second but he didn't stop the car and ask Sam to take over driving. One, because he wasn't sure that if he did the boy wouldn't just take the opportunity to cut off his head while he was at it. And two, it was better to have something distracting him from the growing ravenous hunger inside of him.

So the hours passed. Slowly. Painfully. Eventually Dean did stop but only to refill the tank with gas. Sam took the opportunity to use the restroom in the gas station but Dean didn't try to drive away again. Sam had taken the keys with him. That didn't really surprise the vampire. Though he was surprised when the boy returned them when he came back.

They said nothing more to each other than what was absolutely necessary, and then they were back in the car. Driving in no direction in particular. Just trying to get as far away from where Sam had found him as possible. Dean wondered if he wasn't so god damned tired if he would have just kept going until they finally reached the coast and could go no further.

It was well after nightfall when Dean finally pulled them into a little no named motel in a little no named town in the middle of nowhere. Sam was asleep again in the seat beside him, and the vampire shook him awake before he got out of the car and went into the office to pay for the room.

The room itself was just as unremarkable as everything else was. An old TV that looked like it was left over from the seventies, along with the rest of the décor. Stains on the carpet he didn't even want to guess what they were. Two beds with faded covers that looked uncomfortable despite his exhaustion. But it was better than nothing and right now he couldn't run anymore. He wasn't going to get much further on his own steam right now without falling into that bed first no matter how uncomfortable it looked.

Dean left the door open for Sam while the young man brought in his belongings. Since Dean had nothing of his own, and he wasn't in the mood to offer help, the vampire made his way to the bathroom and shut the door. The florescent light made everything in the room look green when he flicked it on but even that did not completely explain his haggard looking appearance.

Staring into the cracked mirror Dean gently probed the dark bruise on his cheek where Sam had hit him hours ago. The fact that it _had_ bruised at all was telling enough. Normally a wound that insignificant if any mark was left it would have faded within minutes. The fact that the dark bruise was still there hours later was not a good sign at all.

Sighing heavily Dean snapped off the light, not in the mood for a shower right now that would probably be cold anyway, and the vampire returned to the main room. Heading toward the bed that Sam wasn't standing next to he sat down and kicked off his borrowed shoes. Then he dropped back, throwing his arm over his face to block out the light that was only making his migraine worse. His legs still hanging off the end of the bed, but he didn't feel like moving right now. Not even to get more 'comfortable'.

* * *

They hadn't spoken two words to each other for hours. The road kept disappearing under the car and Sam kept watching the landscape rush past until his anger disappeared and left resignation and tiredness in its wake. Sam fell asleep, and when he woke up again it was in the parking lot of a motel god knows where.

Barely half an hour later, Sam was sitting on his bed, watching TV, mute and with captions on when he saw how tired Dean looked. Dark circles under his eyes, the place where Sam had punched him looking red and angry, and the color of Dean's skin was dull and more than a little pale.

Sam knew Dean needed to feed, but Sam's hurt was too fresh. He wouldn't let Dean go and find a victim, and Sam sure as hell wasn't going to offer his own blood when Dean had called him nothing more than a pet.

Sighing, Sam stood up and turned off the lights when he noticed how Dean was covering his eyes with his arm. With the TV being the only source of a blue flickering light, Sam sat back down and continued to watch TV. He was tired too, but his mind kept replaying Dean's words to him.

Pet. _Pet_.

Looking over to Dean again, Sam knew that he was getting weaker.

And no, Sam wasn't going to give him his own blood.

"You okay?" Sam asked finally, his voice cracking a little as he spoke after many hours. He was quiet as he asked his question, not sure what way to phrase it. He didn't want to sound like he cared if Dean was okay or not. He tried to sound annoyed, but it ended up coming out more than a little worried. And Sam hated himself for sounding worried about a vampire who had pretty much shit all over everything Sam had wanted.

* * *

As tired as Dean felt he didn’t sleep. The hunger was too strong to allow him to sleep. The room was silent save for the breathing of the young man sitting on the bed next to his own. Silent save for the loud beating of Sam’s heart.

When Dean had the distraction of driving it had been easier to ignore. Now there was nothing to distract him from the steady thump, thump, thump… a steady strong heart pumping hot red blood through the young man’s veins. So close. So very close. So easy… it would be so easy just to take…

He was keenly aware of every breath Sam took. Every time the young man shifted on the bed. When the boy got up and the overhead lights flicked off. Dean didn’t move. He didn’t drop his arm over his face. He barely even breathed. Trying his hardest to ignore the scent of the young human so very close.

Dean was more than a bit surprised by Sam’s question. Even more by the faint hint of worry he heard in the tone or maybe it was just his imagination. For a long time Dean didn’t answer. Maybe it was better to let the young man think he was sleeping. But Sam knew he wasn’t sleeping. He could still feel the boy’s eyes on him even though he couldn’t see him.

“Fine.” The vampire finally growled out. Not angrily, but his voice had taken a distinctly unnatural tone. Like the growling of an angry animal. He couldn’t really help it. It was the hunger talking. 

* * *

Sam didn't believe him. Dean was hardly fine... and that growl in his voice? It told Sam that Dean needed to feed, and Sam didn't know what to do about it. He looked down at his arm, the place where Dean had bitten him two days ago... the mark was gone, not even a slight indentation letting him know where it was, but Sam wouldn't ever forget the spot. Slowly, his eyes searched out Dean's dark figure on the bed next to his. Dean's words kept echoing in his head, taunting him, mocking him... until Sam couldn't take it anymore.

"Did you mean it?" Sam asked simply, wanting confirmation or denial. They had both been angry. Sam had threatened Dean with killing him even if he knew he won't be able to do it. Maybe Dean had said everything in anger too, without meaning it. "Did you mean what you said? That I was nothing more than a..." Sam let the sentence hang, not wanting to finish it. Sam bit his lip as he waited for Dean's answer. Sam had really thought Dean cared for him. If not now, then when he had been a child. There were things Dean had done for him that no one would do for someone they didn't care about. Fighting a fucking wolf, fighting demons, dealing with his tantrums and his demands and his crying, giving him a home and comfort and safety...

How can all that have been a lie?

Sam's heart pounded harder, louder as he steeled himself for Dean's response. He forced himself to not hope for a denial, and if he didn't get his hopes up, he won't get hurt from Dean's admission.

* * *

Did he mean it…

Dean didn’t need any other clarification. He knew exactly what Sam was asking. He knew exactly what the boy wanted to hear. Dean knew exactly the answer he wanted to give him… and he knew he never could.

To tell the truth would only be cruel to the both of them. He needed to stay focused. He needed to get Sam away from him. He needed to make sure the boy wouldn’t search for him any longer. If he needed to make Sam hate him to do that… then he would. The seeds of doubt were already planted in the boy’s mind. The childish hopes he’d been clinging to all these years were being crushed. All that was needed was one final blow.

Dean’s heart ached a little at how easy it was. So easy to make Sam doubt him. So easy to make Sam believe the lie. But could he really blame the boy? No. Because Dean was a very, very, good liar. He always had been. After all, he’d managed to lie to himself those four years he and Sam had lived together. If he could make himself believe a lie, that he was a good man, then he could make Sam believe anything.

The vampire dropped his arm and slowly sat up. Sitting on the edge of the bed he paused a moment before he got up and slowly faced Sam, walking over to him. His posture relaxed. His face… almost kind. He stood there in front of Sam for a moment. His expression unreadable. Before he moved faster than the eye could follow. Backhanding Sam hard enough to send the boy sprawling to the floor and knocking him out cold.

Sam really was too trusting. Always had been. Especially when it came to Dean. Tears the vampire had been holding back until now slipped down his cheeks, mourning the death of that trust before he wiped them away with finality.

Moving quickly he picked the boy up off of the floor and gently laid him down on the bed. Checking Sam’s pulse to make sure he was all right before going over to the cheep phone on the table and yanking the cord out of the wall. He used it to bind Sam’s hands together and then over his head to the bed post. Not tight enough that Sam wouldn’t be able to get out of it, but enough to give Dean a good head start.

Searching Sam’s pockets Dean found the boy’s cell phone. Flipping it open it wasn’t difficult to find the number of the hunter, Sam’s surrogate father, that had taken the boy away from Dean all those years ago.

Dean called the number, thankful that it went straight to voicemail. He really didn’t want to waste time explaining things to the hunter. He left a quick message letting the hunter know where his little lost lamb had ended up and when he ended the call dropped the phone on the bed beside Sam.

He didn’t look for anything else. He didn’t take anything else. Not money. Not even the keys to the impala. He could steal a car just as easily somewhere in town. For a moment Dean stood next to the bed, looking down at Sam. Almost of their own accord his hand lifted, his knuckles brushing gently down the side of Sam’s face where a bruise was already blossoming.

An eye for an eye…  
A hand for a hand…  
A life for a life…

He still owed Sam a life. Many lives. Maybe if Sam ever found him again, the boy would finally take it. Dropping his hand Dean turned around and walked out the door without a look back. 

* * *

Sam hadn't expected Dean to get up and walk to him. In the dim light of the room, he still saw the gentleness in Dean's eyes and Sam let out a breath, worry leaving him. It had just been anger. Dean had been angry and he had tried to hurt Sam, that was all. Dean didn't really feel that way... otherwise he wouldn't be standing here right now, his eyes kind and warm.

Sam didn't see Dean's hand move, and he didn't feel it either. All he felt was him tipping to the side, propelled by some force and before he could even hit the ground, Sam was out cold.

When he woke up again, it was starting to get light outside and his head hurt like something awful. His cheek throbbed, and his shoulders and neck hurt as well, including his arms. Groaning, Sam shifted and then gasped as the movement made his arms pull against something. Slowly looking up, Sam saw his wrists tied to the bed using telephone cord.

He stopped, eyes looking at his hands tied together, and then he looked to the other bed... the empty bed.

Dean left him. He left him again, tied up and hurting...

The rage that culminated from that realization blinded Sam. He screamed, losing all control and ability to think as he started thrashing, trying to get his hands out of his binding. If he had just calmed down and focused, he would have been able to get out of it, but he only pulled at his wrists, getting onto his knees and pulling and pulling, hearing the bed post start to groan as Sam pulled as hard as he could, twisting this way and that until he didn't have the strength anymore and he lay there, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Dean had hit him.

He had hit him and tied him up and left him behind.

The memory of Sam sitting next to Dean, six years old and so damn afraid of Dean flitted through his mind. He remembered seeing Dean's hand, feeling the sting of it on his cheek and then the terror when Dean sank his teeth into his arm.

Ten years later, and Dean had hit him again.

All Sam knew was that right this moment, he hated Dean. Hated him so damn much. He had held on to the Dean in his memories too long. Who knew how much of what he remembered was even true? Dean had told him, straight out, that he hadn't meant anything to the vampire ever. It was time that Sam let go of the fantasy of Dean he had been carrying around with him and realize that there was no saving these monsters. None of them were good. None of them had any semblance of humanity.

They all deserved to die.

It took him a little while longer to calm down enough to get his hands out of the cord. It hadn't been tied as tight as Sam had originally thought, and he didn't know what that meant. Why hadn't Dean just killed him? Why had he tied him up in such a way that he knew he'll be able to get out of it?

Sam forced himself to stop asking these questions. The ache on his cheek reminded him constantly of what Dean felt for him. There was no affection in the throbbing of his face, only hatred.

He had just packed up everything and was closing the trunk of the Impala when a familiar truck pulled into the parking lot. Sam stood frozen, eyes tearing up at the sight of the familiar cap and the bearded face.

"Sammy..." Bobby said as he came towards Sam and Sam couldn't help it. He threw himself into Bobby's arms, burying his face in the older man's shoulder and just crying. "There, there, kiddo. Here, let me look at that," Bobby said as he gently pried Sam away to look at his face. "Let's get you home, alright?"

"How'd you know I was here?" Sam asked softly as he hugged Bobby again.

"Don't you worry about that," Bobby said, steering Sam towards the truck. "Get in." Bobby attached the Impala by tow and got into the driver's seat and started the truck. He hated how Sam looked right now. It was like being back six years, holding a screaming, crying Sam as Dean disappeared. It was like no time had passed at all, and Bobby hated that Dean could affect Sam like this still.

The bruise on Sam's face, though? That made Bobby murderous. Dean will have hell to pay for that one.

* * *

The night he’d left Sam, for the second time, it felt much like the first time. Grief crushing his heart and making it difficult for the vampire to even breathe. He forgot about his weakness. He forgot about his tiredness. He even forgot about his hunger. He walked with single-minded determination through the dark streets of the small town. He could have killed anyone easily. Broken into their home, drained them dry while they slept in their own beds. But he did none of this. When he finally reached the end of the road, the end of the town, he simply kept walking. Into the woods.

He walked for a long time in the dark woods with only the light of the moon to guide his way. The vampire really didn’t care where he was going. He just kept moving. He could hear the heartbeats of the creatures in the darkness. Little heartbeats. Rodents and sleeping birds most likely. But eventually he heard something louder. Larger. More promising.

His pace slowed as his hunger peaked, pushing past the grief for the moment. His eyes shining in the darkness like hot coals. His teeth descending, razor sharp and deadly as the blood called to him. He crouched in the shadows, in the bushes, sneaking closer to the small herd of deer by a trickling stream.

One of the deer looked up, its ears twitching as it looked around. Sensing the predator nearby. It did no good. Dean rushed from the shadows and tackled one of the startled animals, ripping out its throat and drinking as the rest of the herd scattered into the forest. Soon the animal’s struggles died and its heart stopped. Dean drained it dry before he finally returned to his senses and dropped the dead carcass with a look of disgust.

Is this what he’d become? He spat and gagged. He might have even vomited if his body wasn’t so desperate for the blood no matter how disgusting it was. Crawling over to the stream he scooped up handfuls of the clear water, trying to rinse the rancid taste out of his mouth but it did little good. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, glaring at the filthy animal he had drained, and hating it. Hating himself.

Why had he done this? He’d never killed an animal before. He’d never been that hungry. That desperate. Especially when there had been plenty of humans around to feed from. So why hadn’t he. Only one reason came to mind and he shut that thought away before it could dare to form in his mind.

He was beyond changing. He was beyond saving. He was not a good man.

He was a monster.

Getting up slowly Dean stripped off the bloody and wet sweatshirt… Sam’s sweatshirt… and let it drop to the ground with a sigh. At least the blood had strengthened him somewhat even as filthy as it had been. The hunger was less. His head was clearer. His pain was fading… his physical pain at least. His heart still hurt like it had been crushed inside of his chest.

Dean started walking again. Eventually he’d leave the woods. Eventually he’d come to a town, or a city. He’d find someone with his build and he’d kill them, drain them, steal their clothes and identity. Then he’d keep moving. Just like before. Trying to stay one step ahead of Marcus. Trying to stay one step ahead of Sam.

The vampire sighed heavily. Feeling suddenly tired despite the invigoration of fresh blood in his veins. 

* * *

Bobby had just gotten back home after a long and tiring, but in the end successful hunt when he checked his cell. The voicemail icon was flashing, and Bobby toed off his boots as he entered the code to it.

The man didn't give him much explanation other than where to find Sam, and it left more questions than answers for him. Who was this man? Was Sam okay? The last thing Bobby knew Sam had been looking for Dean and now...

Shit. That was probably Dean. Sam had found him and now Dean was letting him know where Sam was. He hoped to god Dean hadn't hurt Sam, or Bobby was going to rip him apart.

Pulling his boots back on, Bobby rushed out of there and into his truck, and he was on the highway heading to Sam before he had even really thought about it. He drove all night, and then until noon before he saw the Impala gleaming in the sun outside a motel. The very same motel Dean had said Sam would be in. At least, Dean had been honest and hadn't sent him on a wild goose chase. As Bobby turned the truck into the parking lot of the motel, he saw Sam step outside, a duffel bag in his hands and his entire posture was so damn defeated that it made Bobby ache. And even from this far away, Bobby could see the bruise turning black and blue on the poor boy's face.

He parked the truck haphazardly, and only had enough time to utter the teenager's name before he had an armful of the boy, tears wetting his shoulder and shit, it had been a long time since Sam had cried in his arms like this.

The drive to South Dakota took much too long, specially when Bobby just wanted Sam back in his bed and healing already. The boy looked tired, sad, and he looked like he was in pain even if Bobby knew Sam would never complain. He had been hurt worse than this, but Bobby suspected that it wasn't the physical aspect of it that was bothering Sam so much. Even though Sam had been on a vendetta against vampires, Bobby saw how Sam's eyes used to soften when Dean was mentioned, even if his mouth told Bobby how he wanted revenge for his father.

The four years Sam had spent with Dean had left an impression on the boy. Secretly, Sam believed Dean was worth saving, and as much as Bobby hated that, he had never called Sam out on it. Now, seeing the defeat and anger and sadness in Sam's eyes, Bobby just knew that his view on the vampire had been changed. As much as Bobby had wanted Sam to snap out of it, he hadn't wanted it like this. He hadn't wanted Sam to feel the sting of betrayal.

"You doing alright?" Bobby asked, gruff as he entered Sam's room after the boy had showered and dressed. Sam sat on his bed, looking at Bobby with the same eyes that Bobby had seen six years ago after he had deposited a hysterical boy on that very same bed.

"I'm fine," Sam said and Bobby sighed, sitting down on the bed next to Sam.

"He did that to ya?" Bobby asked, pointing to Sam's cheek and Sam shrugged. "You wanna tell me what was going on in that fool head of yours that you didn't call me when you found him?" Sam shook his head slightly, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Why'd he hit you?" Bobby asked and Sam shrugged again. Bobby waited, and waited, and when it seemed like silence was going to be his only answer, Sam spoke up.

"He told me he never cared for me. That I was a hobby, a pet, and that I wasn't amusing anymore," Sam said quietly, not looking at Bobby.

"Oh kid..." Bobby said but didn't know what more to say.

"When I asked him if he meant it, he hit me," Sam finished and Bobby forced down the anger at the image that brought up. It brought up conflicting feelings in Bobby. He knew Sam wanted to hear that it was all a mistake, that maybe Dean was looking out for him, or something. But Bobby didn't want to say that because Bobby didn't believe it. Sam was like his son... no. Sam _was_ his son, and this Dean had dared hurt his son and Bobby wasn't going to feed Sam's foolish notions about the vampire just to make him feel better.

"How long ago you find 'im?" Bobby asked instead.

"Three days or so."

"And you didn't think to call me?"

"We were busy!" Sam said, sounding irritated. "I found him during a normal hunt and then there was someone or something Dean was running from so _we_ were running and I just..."

Bobby's eyes widened as he heard what Sam had said. "Wait, wait, wait. Dean was running from something?"

"Yeah, another vampire," Sam said simply. "I don't know much about it. Dean wouldn't tell me." Bobby nodded but didn't say anything until Sam spoke up again a little while later. "I'm gonna find him, Bobby."

Bobby's hand smacked the back of Sam's head faster than Sam had time to realize it was going to happen. "You're not going to go hunting for that monster again. He could have killed you-"

"But he didn't-"

"Would you listen to your old man for once?" Bobby asked and Sam just looked at him, and Bobby knew he wasn't going to. "Just come down and get something to eat." Bobby got up, muttering to himself about idjits who're going to be the death of him. It made Sam smile, even if his chest continued to ache where Dean's words and actions had struck him.

* * *

After Dean left Sam tied up in that dingy motel room, the vampire lived like a beggar on the streets. He wasn’t quite sure how Sam, or Marcus for that matter, had managed to track him down the first time so he wasn’t taking any chances. He didn’t dare touch his bank accounts or leave any kind of paper trail behind this time.

It was very reminiscent to the first time he’d run away after he thought he’d killed his sire. Constantly running. Always looking over his shoulder. Afraid of the darkness in the shadows and monsters worse than him lurking in them.

He constantly moved from city to city. Hiding amongst the lowest dregs of society. Never staying in one place more than a few days. Stealing a car when he needed to travel and dumping it as soon as he no longer needed it. Squatting in abandoned buildings when he needed to rest and constantly roaming the city streets any other time.

He fed off the homeless and lowlifes that nobody would miss. Stealing cash from the wallets he took from the dead, and leaving everything else. He might not need money for food, but money for gas or occasionally a rat infested motel room came in handy. Made it easier to keep running, keep hiding.

Honestly he wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard to run and hide. If this was all there was to live for, what was the fucking point? Dean remembered how he had felt only a month ago, sitting in a crappy hole in the wall bar staring down at a picture of a boy who was no longer a boy. He remembered the emptiness he felt. Like a hole in his chest bleeding out precious lifeblood every single day.

That feeling… was insignificant compared to the pain he was feeling now. After Seeing Sam again. Seeing the man he was growing into. Hearing his voice again after so long. Seeing those loving trusting eyes again… before Dean had destroyed it completely.

Yes, it had been the right thing to do. Yes, it had been for the best. For Sam. It had to be done... but telling himself that over and over, just as he had the first time he had left Sam behind, did not make it any easier to bear.

But he was still running. Why did he keep running when it would be so easy just to… end it all? He didn’t know. That damned survival instinct never really went away. No matter how much he hurt. No matter how meaningless his life had become. Giving up, rolling over and dying, just wasn’t something he was capable of it seemed.

One day his luck would run out. 

* * *

Bobby had been adamant about keeping Sam away from any mention of Dean, and when it was brought up, Bobby shot down the topic quickly. Sam wasn't allowed to go hunting by himself for a while, until a bunch of people started turning up dead and drained in a town a few hours worth of driving from there. Sam told Bobby he was going. Bobby said he will send Rufus. Sam pointed out that Rufus was busy tracking Dean, and yes, Sam knew about that.

So Bobby told Sam to sit tight and that he'll take care of the vamps. Sam didn't sit tight. He left a note and took the Impala before Bobby could finish packing. And so Sam's lockdown was lifted, however begrudgingly.

Bobby still controlled Sam's movements. He gave Sam the hunts and expected him back home after them. Sam figured he had scared Bobby pretty badly with the whole Dean thing, and he let Bobby get away with it for a while. He listened to Bobby, even though they fought sometimes. He went to school when he could, and went to hunt when something came up, but he treated Bobby's house as home base and didn't stray too far from it.

 

*

 

Rufus had been tracking Dean for a while. Well, no. Tracking would be the wrong word. Rufus was following random clues and sometimes just plain instinct to keep on a barely there trail. Dean was good at hiding, and Rufus was good at tracking... for once it seemed that they were equally matched.

Dean was clearly trying to hide. He was barely leaving behind any evidence of his presence, and it made Rufus' life harder. He looked for scraps of information, anything at all, and he might not be able to catch up to Dean but he was on his tail.

Until one day, he caught up to him.

Rufus staked out the motel, watching. He'd gotten a tip from another hunter that a man matching Dean's description had been seen entering this motel, but he hadn't gotten anything more than that. This could be another wild goose chase, or after months of hunting, Rufus had finally found him...

When he saw Dean step out of a room on the far end, looking haggard and exhausted, Rufus counted it as victory. Flipping open his cell phone, he let Bobby know.

 

*

 

Rufus waited in Dean's room, a syringe of dead man's blood in his hands as he watched Dean's shadow cross the window outside, then the lock in the door turned and the door opened. Rufus was hiding behind the door, where he had the advantage of not being seen. The moment the back of Dean's head appeared in front of him, Rufus jumped, stabbing the syringe into the meat of the vampire's arm and emptying it all in one smooth move.

"Been lookin' for you a long time, fucker," Rufus snarled as he led Dean to a nearby chair and plopped him down on it. "Damn, Bobby's gonna have a fun time beheading your pretty ass head." He quickly brought out a few zip ties, tying Dean's hands behind his back.

* * *

The vampire was getting really fucking tired of these little ‘surprises’ waiting for him when he got home. First that fledgling vampire belonging to Marcus several months ago, and now the stupid hunter he’d had such trouble shaking off his tail the first time around. It had taken Dean six months the first time around to lose the hunter. This time the man had caught up to him in three.

Was he really getting that sloppy? Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. After months of running and hiding, well, years if you counted the last six after losing Sam to the hunters. Maybe he really was simply getting tired of it all.

Whatever the reason it really didn’t matter anymore, did it? He blamed the near overpowering smell of urine and rat shit permeating inside the run down crap hole of a motel room he’d been staying in for not sniffing out the hunter’s scent when he first opened the door. The large syringe of dead man’s blood injected into his arm pretty much dropping him like a stone with a hoarse scream of pain.

Yeah, he was getting really tired of this. Though Dean supposed he should be grateful it was just a syringe of the shit and not a whole fucking IV bag. The fact that he hadn’t hunted for a few weeks only made the dead man’s blood work faster and Dean soon found himself hog-tied.

The vampire gave a harsh laugh at the hunter’s words.

“What’s the matter? Don’t have the stomach to finish the job yourself?” Dean growled mockingly. He wasn’t sure if the beating he received after that was worth it, but at least that last kick to the head knocked him out and gave him some relief from the poisonous blood burning through him.

When Dean woke up again he had no idea how much time had passed. He found himself sitting in a chair. A dark bag over his head kept him from seeing what was going on around him. His arms bound behind him and his legs bound to the chair.

His entire body ached like… well… like he’d gotten the shit kicked out of him by a pissed off hunter. His chest burned with fire with every breath he took and he tasted blood in his mouth, so he knew he had at least one broken rib. Maybe a punctured lung. He probably had another concussion again thanks to the hunter kicking his head around like a soccer ball at the end.

Briefly Dean tested his bonds and wasn’t surprised when they held firm. That’s also when he realized he had a broken arm and dislocated shoulder to add to the fun he was feeling. The dead man’s blood, not to mention the pain from several broken bones, kept him weak enough that he didn’t have much hope of breaking free.

* * *

Sam was just finishing up his homework when Bobby got the phonecall. Sam watched as Bobby frowned and nodded and said 'I'm heading out now. Be careful'.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, but Bobby told him to finish his homework, eat dinner and then go to bed. Bobby would be back by the time school let out tomorrow.

Frowning, Sam grabbed Bobby's cell phone that he had left on the table as he went up to pack. Going through the call log, Sam realized the call had been from Rufus. Rufus, who was hunting Dean. And if Bobby was running like this, then chances are he had found Dean.

"I'm coming with you," Sam said as he cornered Bobby in his bedroom. "I know Rufus found Dean, and I'm coming with you."

"I thought I told you to finish your homework, boy," Bobby grumbled and Sam just glowered. "You'll be unbearable if I don't let you come along, aren't you?"

"If you don't let me come with you, then I'm going by myself. But if I go with you, you get to keep an eye on me," Sam pointed out and Bobby sighed, taking off his cap to scratch his balding head for a moment before putting the cap back on.

"You'll listen to everything I say," Bobby said and Sam nodded. "Go pack up. We leave in ten minutes."

 

*

 

The drive took five hours, and by the time they got to the town Rufus was in, it was nearly midnight. Sam was out of the Impala before Bobby had even parked the truck, and he was running to the room Rufus had said they would be in. Rufus opened the door easily when Sam knocked on it, and then there he was... Dean, sitting on a chair looking haggard and worn down and... shit, was that an empty, bloody syringe?

Sam knew that Rufus had to have injected Dean with the blood to keep him under control, but it made something in Sam rage anyway. Sam forced himself to not react. He may have loved Dean once upon a time, but three months ago Dean hit him hard enough to knock him out and then left him behind. Three months ago Dean had told him that all the affection and love Sam had felt for him had been entirely one sided and... and that Sam had been nothing more than a pet.

That little three letter word had started to sound like a curse to Sam now.

"Dean..." Sam whispered as Bobby came up behind him.

"Sam, stay away from him," Bobby said as he looked at Dean and then Rufus who looked a little confused.

"What's Sam doing here?" Rufus asked and Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Wouldn't stay away. Let's get this over with," Bobby said as he pulled out a machete and Sam's heart thudded in his chest at the sight. This was it. They were going to kill Dean and John's death would be avenged and half the drama in Sam's life will be over...

Then why did the thought of Dean dying scare him so? He should be glad. It was going to be over. Everything was going to okay once Dean was gone because then Sam could move on.

"Sam, step back," Bobby warned again and that was when Sam realized he had taken several steps towards Dean. " _Sam_..." Sam stopped, looking at the machete in Bobby's hand and then at Dean but he didn't step away. "Sam, you promised you'll do as I said!"

Sam just kept staring at Dean. He couldn't imagine having Dean die. He just couldn't. Sure he had thought about this moment, but he hadn't ever actually imagined the act. He had imagined threatening Dean, imagined putting a machete to his neck, but he hadn't ever gone as far as to make the first cut.

"Sam, step away from him," Rufus said as Bobby stepped closer.

"Take him out of the room," Bobby said to Rufus who started reaching for Sam but all that did was propel Sam into moving towards Dean, getting in between Bobby and Dean. What the hell was Sam doing?! He should just step away and let Bobby do what Sam was too pussy to do...

But he couldn't. He just... he couldn't.

"Don't!" Sam said, hands extended out as though he could stop the two men. If Rufus and Bobby decided they'd had enough of Sam, they could easily incapacitate him, and Sam knew that. Still, for some strange reason, Sam had to try.

* * *

Dean knew the hunter was nearby. In the room with him. He could sort of smell the man now that he was paying attention over the stench and scent of his own blood. Every once in a while he heard the man move, the creak of the bedsprings, or the click of the old fashioned dial TV when the channel changed.

Other than that the hunter ignored him and Dean was content with that. He didn’t really have anything to say to the man. Even though the desire to at least ask if Sam was all right was almost overwhelming, he was sure the hunter wouldn’t have answered him anyway. Not to mention it might have triggered another round of beating which Dean wasn’t anxious to repeat considering how much he still hurt from the first round.

Eventually he heard the knock at the door and the vampire tensed. He still couldn’t see anything with the black bag over his head but he really didn’t need to. Dean’s ears were working just fine. He heard squeaking bed springs when the hunter rose. The heavy footsteps as he went over to the door and open it. Then he heard the soft whisper of his name and Dean tensed in spite of himself.

Sam…

Judging by the dialogue shared between the two hunters, the first one wasn’t expecting Sam’s arrival any more than Dean had been. Suddenly Dean was glad for the concealing bag thrown over his head. So he wouldn’t have to see the boy he’d cared so much for looking at him in hate before he was beheaded. He heard the scrape of metal, probably a machete, and Dean did his best not to tense.

Then, suddenly he was wishing that he _didn’t_ have the bag on because he had no idea what was going on. When he smelled Sam approach him he assumed it was because the boy was getting ready to complete the deed he hadn’t been able to three months ago. But the other hunters were telling Sam to step back and… what the hell was Sam doing?

_Don’t…_

It was just one word, and it made Dean’s heart twist in his chest. After everything Dean had done, after everything he had said, after everything he had taken away from the boy… What was Sam doing?

“Do what they say, Sam.” Dean finally spoke, giving his first indication that he was awake and listening to everything that had been going on. Not that Sam had any reason to listen to him, but maybe it would change Sam’s mind when the boy realized that Dean didn’t _want_ to be saved. Sam was only making this harder. The hunters weren’t going to let him leave the room alive. He was only delaying the inevitable. 

* * *

Dean's quiet words only made Sam's decision to keep Bobby from killing Dean stronger. Sam didn't know the reasoning behind it. He only knew he couldn't let Dean die. He just couldn't. He knew he'll regret it forever if he stepped away now and let Bobby finish him off.

"Sam, go back to the truck," Bobby said, more steel in his voice and Sam looked at him, stubbornness showing in every move. Bobby sighed and started coming closer, intent on pulling Sam away and finishing all of this when Sam shifted on his feet, bringing his fists up. Bobby froze from the surprise of seeing Sam in his fighting stance.

"I don't want to fight you, Bobby," Sam said, his fingers twitching where they were curled. He didn't think he'd be able to hit Bobby if it came down to it, but he knew the action was enough to let Bobby know he was serious. "Please... don't."

"I thought this was what you wanted..." Bobby's voice had gone quiet, and beside him Rufus was starting to look angry.

"Yo, kid, I thought you wanted this vamp dead! Now he's here, I've made sure he can't fight back, and you're backing out on me?!" Rufus said and Sam swallowed thickly.

"I... I..."

"You what?" Rufus snarled and Sam looked at him nervously.

"I don't think I can do it..." Sam whispered and Rufus rolled his eyes.

"Then let Bobby do it. You can't handle the blood? Go get yourself a burger or something while we get the job done!"

Sam's expression grew darker as Rufus talked. "I'm not moving-"

"He killed your father!"

"I'm NOT MOVING," Sam yelled and Rufus looked at him, confused. "Don't ask me why. I can't tell you why. Just don't... don't..."

"What are we supposed to do? Let him walk?" Bobby asked and Sam looked down to the ground, shaking his head. "And you won't let us kill him." Sam shook his head again. "Then what should we do?"

When Sam didn't say anything, Rufus stepped forward, angry. "Tell us what you want, Sam! Otherwise you're just delaying the inevitable!"

"Sam, I understand that you're attached to Dean," Bobby said softly, putting the machete down so that Sam would stop feeling so threatened. "But you gotta think, kiddo. He killed your Dad. He told you how he doesn't care about you-"

"Then why didn't he kill me?" Sam asked, looking at Bobby. "He had all the chances in the world to kill me. He was hurt, and starved, and he only drank from me when I offered and-"

"He did WHAT?!" "You did what?!" Rufus and Bobby spoke at the same time and Sam realized that he had let out a secret he hadn't planned on telling them. Too late to regret it now.

"And he didn't take much at all! If I was just another person to him, he would have drained me, but he didn't! That... that has to count for something!" Sam pointed out and his eyes glanced briefly at Bobby's angry ones before dropping down to the ground again. "He didn't drain me. He... he didn't attack me."

"He hit you," Rufus pointed out.

"And knocked me out. But he didn't kill me. He even called Bobby to tell him where I was," Sam said, licking his lips. "I don't know about you but that doesn't sound like someone who doesn't care about me."

"He's a vampire," Rufus said and Sam nodded.

"Yeah..." Sam said, but he had nothing else to add to it.

"This is fucking bullshit, man!" Rufus snarled and Sam tensed, but all he did was throw his hands up in the air and walk out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Sam and Bobby staring at each other.

"I don't understand you, kid," Bobby said and Sam just gave him a small smile.

"It's alright," he said. "I don't understand me either."

Bobby nodded, heading towards Sam to rest a hand on his shoulder. "But I trust you. Don't make me regret that."

Sam shook his head. "I'll try my best." Bobby nodded, patting his shoulder again before heading towards the door.

"We're right outside. I think you and Dean need to talk," Bobby said and Sam nodded, watching him go but not close the door all the way. Slowly, Sam reached for the black bag over Dean's head and removed it, hissing in sympathy when he saw the bruises and the blood on Dean's face.

"Hi, Dean," Sam said softly, meeting Dean's green eyes.

* * *

Sam didn’t listen to him either. Typical. Dean wasn’t sure if it was a smile or a grimace that pulled at his lips as he listened to the ‘discussion’ about him dissolve into a shouting match between the three hunters.

How could Sam still defend him after all of this? Sam’s arguments were weak at best. But they were still arguments. On his behalf. A vampire. A monster.

Dean winced as the hunters laid out all the reasons why Sam should want him dead. Very good reasons. Reasons even Dean believed in. Sam’s friends were absolutely right. Sam really was only delaying the inevitable. But Sam still stood in front of him, until finally the two older hunters left the room.

His execution delayed. For the moment at least. Leaving him and Sam alone.

A moment later the bag was pulled off of his head and Dean as much as a part of him _wanted_ the opportunity to see Sam again, the more rational part of him knew it was a mistake. It would have been easier for… both of them… to do what needed to be done if Sam had just left that last barrier in place.

Slowly Dean looked up. The young man looked nervous and confused as hell, and Dean honestly couldn’t blame him.

“You never did listen. Even when it was for your own good. I should have grounded you more often. Teach you some respect for your elders.” Dean finally said softly, his attempt at humor falling flat, probably a lot to do with the exhaustion in his voice. 

* * *

Dean's words made Sam's smile widen, until he was chuckling softly. "Yep," he said, sitting down on the bed in front of Dean. "You spoiled me with too many Happy Meals," Sam said before his grin disappeared and he looked down at his hands clasped on top of his thighs.

Sighing softly, Sam tried to get his thoughts in order. How was he supposed to talk to Dean when Sam himself didn't know what he wanted to happen?

He just sat there for a few moments longer, not knowing what to say so he just decided to speak. "I've had three months to think about everything that happened," Sam said quietly, still not looking at Dean. "I'm pretty sure you don't hate me, but... but I'm not a hundred percent, ya know?" Sam asked but he didn't expect an answer. "Anyway, I just..." Sam looked at Dean then, wanting to be sure that Dean heard what he had to say.

"I know one thing for sure though. I... I can't kill you. And I can't watch you die. I know I should want you dead. I know you killed Dad, and I know..." Sam sighed, "I know that I should hate you but... but I don't and I don't know what to do about that..."

Sam just sat there as he looked at Dean, trying to figure out what he should do next. It would hurt to let Dean go and not go with him, but Sam knew now that Dean had looked at Sam's company as more of a punishment than anything else. Dean may not have killed him, but that didn't mean Dean wanted Sam around either.

* * *

Dean snorted softly at Sam’s reply. It was true to a point. It was a wonder Sam was such a skinny kid with all the cheeseburgers and French fries he put away as a child. Maybe Dean should have bought some stock in McDonalds. Then again, that was one of the reasons the vampire had taught himself how to cook even if he didn’t need to eat himself. Because he had wanted to take care of Sam as best he could.

Looking over at the boy sitting on the bed in front of him, Dean couldn’t help a more genuine smile that formed on his lips. Sam had turned out pretty well, all things considered. Though that probably had very little to do with Dean’s efforts. He probably had the hunter to thank for that.

Maybe Dean would thank him, right before Bobby cut off his head.

Dean didn’t say anything as he listened to Sam talk, the boy trying to put into words what he was feeling. The vampire really couldn’t blame the boy for being confused, stumbling over his words and repeating them, maybe trying to make himself believe them. He wasn’t really sure what Sam was asking, what Sam wanted to hear from him. Dean knew he probably owed the boy some sort of closure before it was all over. At the very least. But he didn’t know how to give it to him.

“Sam… I don’t know what you want to hear from me. I could tell you I lied about everything I said to you. I could tell you that I… love you. That you were like a son to me I never thought I would ever have. That those four years together were the best years of my life. That I did it to protect you. That you’re not safe with me. You never were…”

Dean sighed heavily and closed his eyes briefly. Using the moment to center himself, to say what he needed to without his voice breaking, and without betraying what he really felt. When he opened his eyes again they were blank.

“I could say anything I thought you wanted to hear. To save my own skin. To convince you to let me go. But that’s all it would be. I told you before you didn’t know me. You didn’t know what I was capable of. Now you know. Whatever you are looking for… inside of me… it doesn’t exist.”

The vampire sighed again and dropped his head. Gazing at the floor rather than at the boy before him. His voice taking on a harder edge.

“It was always going to come to this sooner or later. You should listen to your… friends. They know what’s best for you. Go… wherever. Outside. Down the street. You don’t have to watch. Let them finish what needs to be done.” 

* * *

As Dean talked, Sam felt hope flare in his chest. Dean did love him... he said he thought of him as a _son_...

Until Dean said that it would all pretty much be lying in an effort to get Sam to let him go.

The hurt from that was sharp and painful, spiking for a moment so much that Sam thought his chest would cave in, but then a thought hit him and the hurt left, leaving behind hope again.

"Why don't you say those things to me?" Sam asked, leaning forward as he started to understand Dean a little bit. "You said that all those things would be just a play to get me to let you go, right?" Sam got up, coming closer to Dean and kneeling down, one hand resting lightly on Dean's knee as he spoke. "Then say those things. I'm gullible. I'll fall for it because I care for you and I'm too stubborn for my own good and deep down I believe you're a good man and so I'll fall for it. I'll let you go. Then why don't you say those things? Why do you want me to let them kill you?"

Sam smiled softly as he looked at Dean. "If you were the big bad monster you want me to think you are, you would be doing the exact opposite of what you're doing right now. And that's enough for me."

Sam's decision was sudden, but he was sure it was the right one. He got up, going around to the back of Dean's chair and began to undo his ties. He had no hopes that he'll get what he wanted. He doubted that even after he let Dean go, that he'll get to go with Dean. The vampire will probably run away and leave Sam behind one more time. But Sam had no doubt that Dean wouldn't harm him. Not again.

"Just promise me you won't kill anyone...?" Sam asked, whispering so that Bobby wouldn't hear and come inside. If he was going to regret this, then he'll regret it tomorrow morning. Not right now.

* * *

Sam was silent after he spoke. It was a deafening kind of silence. For a moment the boy didn’t even breathe and he knew he had hurt Sam deeply. Dean hated having to hurt Sam over and over again, but if that’s what it took to stop the boy from clinging to the false image of Dean that didn’t exist…

Dean realized his mistake all too late when Sam started questioning him. Coming to the exact opposite conclusions that Dean wanted him to. The boy was smarter than the vampire gave him credit for… or maybe Dean just had to admit to himself wasn’t trying hard enough.

He didn’t _want_ to hurt Sam. He didn’t _want_ Sam to hate him. As Sam knelt down in front of him, forcing the vampire to look at him, Dean knew it was pointless to put up the charade any further. His heart simply wasn’t in it. He couldn’t lie to Sam anymore. Not with the way the boy was looking at him now. Smiling at him…

But Dean was still a little bit surprised when Sam got up and moved behind him. Even more when he felt the ties around his wrists loosen. Dean had to grip the arms of the chair quickly then to keep from simply pitching forward. Closing his eyes against the wave of dizziness that swept over him, and swallowing down the pain.

Sam’s next question wasn’t much of a surprise, but at the same time it was a complete shock. Sam really was… letting him go. Not that the two other hunters would let him step one foot out of this motel room, but still the gesture, the trust, was immense. Dean could easily lie to the boy…

“I can’t make that promise. You know that.” Dean finally whispered, opening his eyes and looking up a Sam. He could lie, but he wouldn’t. 

* * *

Sam quickly went to Dean's front after he had untied him. Dean was weak, and the way he pitched forward a little before gripping the arms of the chair told Sam just how weak he was.

Dean's refusal to promise Sam didn't deter him. His priorities had shifted again, which they usually did when he was around Dean. Sam stood in front of Dean, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other against his chest, trying to keep him steady.

Sam stood there for a moment, just keeping Dean steady. He licked his lips, wondering how to ask what he wanted to ask without sounding desperate and whiny and clingy. Mostly, he steeled himself up for a refusal.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Sam asked, quiet. "Because I will... I want to but only if you want... I don't want it to be like the last time. I don't want you to have to knock me out to get away from me."

What Sam really was asking was if he could come with him. He really wanted to go with Dean. He had several reasons. If he went with Dean, he could try and make sure the vampire never drained someone to the point of death. He could take care of Dean while he was weak. But mostly, he just wanted to be near him.

Sam had always considered Dean family. While he was murderous on revenge, he had still thought of Dean like family gone rogue. Seeing him once again destroyed all anger he'd had and left behind just an aching emptiness. The emptiness had grown worse when they had been fighting three months ago, on that day Dean had backhanded him into unconsciousness. But right now? Just having that soft smile of Dean's directed at him and his words that told Sam that Dean didn't hate him?The emptiness was disappearing bit by bit, and Sam was chasing that feeling like an addict for his next hit.

But the fact was that Sam would rather let Dean leave when he was sure that Dean liked him, than stick with him and have Dean hate him.

God, Bobby was going to kill him, Sam thought with more than a little apprehension.

* * *

Sam’s steadying hand on his shoulder was welcome. Thankfully it was the shoulder that had not been dislocated. Dean coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. He had felt the broken rib bones in his chest shift when he moved. He tucked his broken arm against his chest. Offering some protection both to the arm and his chest, but not much.

It had taken him several weeks to fully recover from the injuries Julia had given him and fully expel the dead man’s blood from his body. The only thing in his favor now was the fact that the hunter hadn’t used nearly as much dead man’s blood on him as the bitch had. He would recover quickly, maybe, if he had enough blood. A few days, or a week. But until then he was going to be very weak, not in much shape to run, and even less to fight.

At the boy’s question Dean was forced to look away from him. He remembered how Sam had said he wanted to stay with him before. At the time Sam hadn’t known what he was saying. He hadn’t understood. Just like the six year old Sam had been hadn’t understood. Not really. He’d still been living in a dream where Dean was a ‘good’ vampire.

In a few short weeks though, Dean knew things had changed. It was a little amazing how much maturity had developed in the boy in that short period of time. Maybe what Dean had done hadn’t been such a wasted effort after all. If it had opened Sam’s eyes a little bit. Made him see the world a little more as it really was instead of how he wanted it to be. Dean still regretted what he’d done, but at least some good had come from it.

Now Sam was _asking_ him if he wanted the boy with him. Somehow Dean knew that this time, if Dean said no, then Sam would accept it and the boy wouldn’t look for him again. It would be the end of it. Maybe it was the closure they both needed… to get on with their lives.

But Dean found himself hesitating for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“It’s not safe,” He finally said softly, and he knew that wasn’t really an answer. 

* * *

  
_'It's not safe.'_

__That was not a refusal, and Sam knew that Dean knew it. What did that mean then? That Dean wanted him to come with him but he was worried about it being dangerous?

"Dean, I don't know if you've noticed but I can take care of myself," Sam pointed out. "I've been hunting for two years now, and ever since I turned sixteen I've been mostly hunting solo. If anything, I'll watch your back."

Just then, Bobby came in and Sam realized that he may have heard the last bit of their conversation. Before Sam could open his mouth, Bobby was walking up to him and grabbing Sam's hand, the one that was on Dean's shoulder.

"Why am I not surprised that you untied him?" Bobby asked as he pulled Sam away.

"I'm going with him, Bobby," Sam said simply as Rufus showed up in the doorway as well. "Right, Dean?" Sam asked him but Bobby wasn't listening.

"No you're not. Don't be a damn idjit, boy. This is why I didn't want to bring you here," Bobby said and Sam shook his head, trying to pull his hand away. "Don't you remember how I found you last time?!"

"I do remember," Sam said, still fighting against Bobby's grip. "And I don't blame him, okay? I was annoying-"

"He raised a hand to you! You're like a son to me and he raised a hand to you!" Bobby snapped and Sam froze for a moment, realizing that this was what Bobby had been angry about. This is why Bobby had rushed here, machete in hand.

"Just kill the fucker, Bobby. If you don't do it, then I will," Rufus said, eyes sharp and on Dean the entire time.

"No!" Sam yelled at Rufus. "No! Don't touch him. Bobby, let me go!"

"Sam, listen to me-" Bobby started but Sam wasn't listening.

"No! Let me go! Stay away from him!" Sam fought until Bobby let him go and then he was standing between Dean and them again. Rufus and Bobby blocked the doorway, and Sam stood in between with Dean behind him, trying to keep either side from getting hurt. "I want to go with him, Bobby. Please."

"Sam... you know I won't ever agree to that," Bobby said and Sam swallowed heavily, looking back at Dean.

"Can I come with you, Dean?" Sam asked, and his answer now was all everything rested on.

* * *

Dean was already starting to shake his head even before Sam started speaking.

He knew that Sam must have taken care of that fledgling that Julia had left to guard him when she went to retrieve Marcus. He knew that couldn’t have been the first vampire Sam had gone up against. He believed the boy when he said he’d become a pretty damned good hunter over the years. Even though Dean didn’t like hearing about it. He had given the boy to the hunter so that Bobby would keep the boy _safe_. Not let him go out hunting monsters when he was only _fourteen_ years old!

But even knowing that Sam could ‘take care of himself’ and maybe even watch his back, that didn’t really change anything. He wanted Sam _safe_ god damn it! And Sam would never be safe with him. Never. Not while Marcus was still looking for Dean. The old vampire would catch up to him one day, eventually. It was a bit surprising that the human hunters had managed to catch up with him first. When that day came, when Marcus finally did find him, he wanted Sam as far away from him as fucking possible!

Dean didn’t get the chance to answer Sam however because suddenly the door slammed open and the hunters waiting outside were back. Either having decided Sam had enough alone time with him or they had overheard their discussion, given how thin the walls were, Dean wasn’t all that surprised.

When Bobby grabbed Sam and pulled him away a soft growl escaped the vampire’s throat before he could stop it. As the two argued Dean’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two and the third hunter who was watching him like a hawk. There was only one way out of the room. Through the door the hunters came in through, and there was no way Dean was going to make it if he tried to make a run for it. Not in his current state.

His eyes widened a little when Sam tried to defend Dean’s reasons for hitting him. Not so much that Sam was doing so, but because he was blaming _himself_ for it. For being annoying…

While Dean sat there stunned Sam fought his way free from the other hunter and put himself in front of the vampire once more. Bodily shielding him from the two older men. Then when Sam asked him, again, the question Dean had avoided answering, all eyes turned on him. Murder in two sets of eyes, hope in one.

Finally Dean made his decision. Time would only tell if he’d regret it.

His eyes were watchful of any move the two hunters might make towards him, or the machete still sitting on the table close by. He was unsteady as hell, and obviously weak, and he didn’t bother to hide it. Which was probably why the hunters’ expressions were so shocked when he moved so fast. Suddenly he was on his feet, his good arm snaking around Sam’s neck in a headlock, trapping the boy’s body against him. Dean’s fangs descended and his eyes turned red, and he growled threateningly at the two hunters when started to move forward. In response his grip around the boy’s neck tightened, not enough to cut off his airflow yet, but enough to get his point across since the hunters froze.

“Step aside. Or watch me rip out his throat, hunters.” The vampire growled at the two older men. His expression completely cold and unfeeling.

He had always been a very good liar. 

* * *

Sam had only a moment when he saw Bobby and Rufus' eyes widen and then suddenly he was being pulled back against a warm chest, an arm against his throat not tight enough to cut off his air but it felt threatening.

The surprise and shock worked in his favor as Sam reached up, hands gripping Dean's arm even as Dean snarled at the other hunters to step aside or he'll kill Sam. There was a flash of fear, ice cold and deep in Sam from the words, even as something inside him refused to believe that Dean really will kill him. He might hurt Sam a little, he might even hit him or knock him out or drink from him to make a point, but he wouldn't kill him.

So this was an empty threat, and Sam went along with it.

He watched as Bobby's eyes darkened with fear while Rufus looked positively murderous. Reluctantly, they both moved aside, leaving the door open. Slowly, Sam and Dean made their way to the exit, keeping their eyes on the two hunters until they were outside.

"The Impala," Sam said, still trapped by Dean's arm. He reached into his pocket, bringing out the keys to the car. "Here," he offered, one hand still on Dean's arm while the other held the keys.

Sam didn't know why Dean chose this method of leaving, but he went along with it. Sam was sure if Dean had said yes, Sam would have been able to get them both out without resorting to a fake kidnapping, but who knows what was going on in Dean's head.

He'll call Bobby later... let him know he was fine.

The hunters stepped out behind them, machetes in their hands as Sam and Dean stumbled towards the Impala. Sam tried to convey to Bobby that he was alright with his eyes, but Bobby didn't seem like he saw. He looked desperate, angry, and very dangerous. There was no doubt in Sam's mind that Bobby will be hunting for them, and he had to diffuse the situation as quickly as he could as soon as they got out of here.

Rufus might be a tad harder to handle though.

* * *

Dean easily felt the tension in the young man pressed against him. Standing so close he could even smell when his scent changed, taking on a slight tang of fear. But despite this, Sam didn’t try to fight him. He didn’t resist at all, despite the fact that it would have been very easy for the boy to do so. To escape him. If he really wanted to. But Sam didn’t.

Instead Sam allowed himself to be maneuvered rather awkwardly towards the motel door once the hunters moved aside. A human shield for the injured vampire standing behind him, using the boy as much for support as a ruse to get them out of the room.

The vampire reached up and took the keys when Sam offered them. Making their way across the parking lot to where the car was parked. Dean wasn’t all that surprised when the hunters followed them out, now armed. The vampire snarled at them viciously. His eyes glowing even brighter in the darkness outside.

“Stay there. Or else.” He warned the two men. Thankfully Dean didn’t need to elaborate on the ‘or else’ and the hunters remained where they were as he and Sam reached the car.

Dean quickly unlocked the driver’s side door and shoved the boy inside with a muttered, “Move over.” They weren’t going to have much time and he was right. The hunters were already moving when Dean climbed into the driver’s seat after Sam, shoved the keys into the ignition, and threw the car into gear faster than he would have thought possible in his current state. A good thing too because it was probably the only thing that saved them.

The tires squealed with the speed he backed out of the parking spot, forcing Bobby to jump out of the way to avoid the car. He wasn’t _trying_ to run the man over, but he’d gotten too damned close to the car, trying to get to Sam. The other man had a different approach. Dean saw the gun out of the corner of his eye, and quickly grabbed Sam and shoved the boy down in the seat seconds before the drivers side window exploded, the bullet narrowly missing Dean’s head. A gun might not kill him but it could sure as hell slow him down, as the hunter obviously knew, but he wasn’t giving the man a second shot.

Switching gears the vampire slammed on the gas once more, peeling out of the parking lot and turning onto the street at top speed. At least one more bullet hit the car, but he didn’t think it did any real damage, before they finally left the two hunters behind. Dean didn’t let up off the gas however and he wouldn’t until he was sure they weren’t being followed.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, risking a glance away from the road to look at Sam. 

* * *

Sam stayed down on the seat until he heard the glass shatter, and his eyes widened. Did Bobby just shoot at Dean? After he told them that he didn't want them killing Dean? Sam knew that he shouldn't be pissed off, but he was. Alright, sure, so Dean had put up a front of kidnapping Sam and intending him harm, but Bobby knew Sam wanted to go with him anyway!

Sam's eyes stayed on Dean, worried that the bullet may have found Dean but he seemed to be fine... well, as fine as he could be under these circumstances. Sam sat up when Dean let him, looking over his shoulder at the disappearing motel before turning back to look at Dean.

"I'm fine," Sam said in reply to Dean's question. "What about you? You want me to drive?" Sam offered, knowing how weak Dean was. Dean should rest. He looked like he was about to keel over any minute.

* * *

Dean shook his head at Sam’s offer. He didn’t want to risk pulling the car over so soon. If the hunters hadn’t jumped into the nearest car and sped out of the motel following them Dean would have been really fucking surprised. He wasn’t willing to give up any sort of lead they might have on the two other men. Especially knowing how good of a tracker at least one of them was.

“I’m fine.” He told the boy. Though he probably wasn’t making a very good case for himself as he was once again cradling his injured arm against his chest. The recent… activity… sure as hell hadn’t made it hurt any less. Dean coughed and spat another mouthful of blood out the now _permanently_ open car window.

He didn’t say anything else for a while. Needing all of his concentration right now on the road in front of him. Taking several different winding streets and doubling back to hopefully lose their pursuers before finally making his way towards the highway.

“It wasn’t because I thought you were annoying.” Dean finally said, addressing one of the things that had bothered him the most about the exchange between the boy and the hunters.

“What you said before. The reason I… hit you. I knew it was the only way to… make you believe I didn’t care. The only way you would let me go.” 

* * *

Sam frowned at the way Dean spat blood out the window, and the way he was cradling his arm. Dean needed rest, but Sam wasn't going to fight him on taking over the driving. As much as he wanted to take over, he knew that there was a chance Bobby and Rufus will catch up to them.

He was wondering about where to go and what to do next when Dean spoke up again and caught Sam by surprise.

"Oh..." Sam said softly in response. Sam had misunderstood Dean entirely. It had just made sense that Dean had had enough of him that night. That very same day Sam had thwarted one of his attempts to feed, and then Dean had tried to _leave_ him behind at that very same rest stop. Then the fight in the car where Dean had said what continues to be one of the most hurtful things he had ever heard in his life so far, and then when Dean hit him and knocked him out... it had all made sense. Dean had gotten tired of him, and found that to be the easiest way to get away from him.

"Okay," Sam said, quiet as he thought about that. He licked his lips, remembering that day in question... remembering waking up to the throbbing in his cheek and his hands tied up above his head. "Why did you want me to hate you?" Sam asked, confused. "You said it was too dangerous... Is this about the vamp who was looking for you?"

* * *

Sam’s rather subdued response bothered Dean a little. He wasn’t sure if the boy believed him or not. Did it make it any better if he did believe Dean? No, not really. Because it didn’t change the fact of what Dean had done. That he’d hit Sam the way he had, hard enough to knock the boy out cold.

Was it any real wonder why the hunter who thought himself Sam’s father wanted him dead? Well, aside from the fact that Dean was a blood-sucking monster? No. He really couldn’t blame the man for that. Dean would feel the exact same way if anyone laid a hand on Sam that way.

He really didn’t want to answer Sam’s questions. But Dean had opened up this can of worms. He had ‘kidnapped’ Sam for the second time. He more than owed Sam the truth if nothing else.

“His name is Marcus. He… was my sire. He turned me into what I am over two hundred years ago. It sure as hell wasn’t my choice, and when I was with him, I was… his slave. His plaything. I… thought he was dead. I thought I’d killed him. But he’s alive. He’s looking for me and I can’t hide from him forever.”

Dean paused, glancing over at Sam but unable to read what the boy was thinking of all this. He turned his attention back to the road with a sigh.

“I don’t want you with me when that happens. This… is only temporary, Sam. I told you before. I’m a monster. I always will be. That’s never going to change. This is not your world. I don’t want you a part of it.” 

* * *

Sam listened carefully, surprised when Dean said that this vampire was Dean's sire. As far as Sam was aware, the older the vampire got, the stronger it was. Dean was a powerful vampire. Sam knew this. It was specially obvious in how quickly he could move when he was actually weak and hurt.

This vampire that sired Dean... he had to be much older than Dean, and so Sam could see the threat in it. It made him worry for Dean. The whole story was harsh to listen to. Dean being a slave, turned against his will...

Shit.

Also... plaything? Sam didn't want to immediately go down the wrong route, but he worried that it sounded less than innocent. He doubted Dean meant that they liked to play tag.

"This is not my world?" Sam repeated with a frown. "Dean, this has been my world since the day Dad died and you kidnapped me. I'm a hunter, sure, but honestly? I think I specialize in vampires. I kill other things, but I specifically look for vamps. Even if I wasn't with you, I'd be hunting them. So I doubt you can play the good Samaritan and keep me in school 'cause it ain't gonna happen.

"You might be able to protect me from Marcus," Sam said, looking out of the windshield, "but you can't protect me from every other vamp out there. I'm either here, beside you, or out there, by myself."

* * *

Dean growled softly at Sam’s stubborn response.

Maybe the boy had a point. It was Bobby’s god damned fault for allowing Sam to follow in his father’s footsteps, to become a hunter, when he was still just a boy. It was Dean’s fault for kidnapping Sam in the first place all those years ago, and giving Sam a reason to hunt all those things that went bump in the night. It was John Winchester’s fault for being a hunter in the first place, pulling Sam into this dark world full of monsters when he was only six years old.

But that didn’t mean that Sam didn’t have a choice, god damn it. He could get out easily if he wanted to. He just had to _want_ to. He assumed that Sam had taken up this whole crusade, going after vampires, hunting him, because the boy wanted revenge against his father. Maybe Sam even believed that at the time. But time and again Sam had the chance to kill him, let others kill him, and instead Sam saved him and helped him escape his friends.

So why was Sam doing this? Why did he still want to hunt? Why did he still want to live in the darkness?

“I wouldn’t have to protect you if you’d just go _home_ and be safe where you belong.” Dean replied, his voice rising a little with his frustration, which triggered another coughing fit unfortunately. When it was over he was forced to spit out another mouthful of blood and swallowed hard. His vision going double for a moment before he blinked it clear. He really shouldn’t be driving right now, but they really couldn’t stop.

“I’m sorry… for kidnapping you all those years ago. For your father…” Dean finally said once he’d caught his breath. “It was… wrong. You should have a normal life. You _can_ have a normal life. All you have to do is walk away…”

* * *

Sam looked at Dean worriedly as he had a coughing fit. He spat out another mouthful of blood out the window and Sam was _this_ close to telling Dean to pull over and let Sam drive.

He smiled at Dean's words though, and he reached up to his left shoulder, pushing his hoodie off to the side to expose the brand he still carried on there. The skin had turned white with age, the scar tissue raised a little and still forming the shape it was meant to have.

"Walk away, Dean?" Sam asked, smiling still. "I can't walk away from everything just as much as I can't leave this scar behind. It's a part of me now. Everything is. I can't sit there, at school, studying math when I know that it's not going to help me if I have a ghost in the house, or a werewolf decides to attack me. So I train. Then when I find out about people dying, do you expect me to sit home and do nothing when I can help?"

Sam shook his head, straightening his hoodie once more. "Bobby didn't tell me to hunt. I went with him against his wishes. I forced him to teach me to shoot, to fight. He taught me to read Latin, memorize the exorcism rights... everything. I can't sit home. I can't be safe. Not when there are people dying."

Sam looked at Dean again, smirk on his face. "And let's not pretend the demons aren't coming for me. Bobby saw the scar. He figured out it's purpose. We know it's not going to last forever, even if we don't know why the demons want me to begin with. I need to be ready to fight for my life because it'll happen. I know it will."

* * *

Dean glanced over at Sam when he heard the boy shifting around in the seat beside him, heard the rustle of cloth as Sam revealed his shoulder, and Dean’s lips tightened when he saw the scar. Of course Dean had never forgotten it. The reason Sam had it or the demons that had tried to take Sam away from him when he’d first found the boy.

Maybe he had futilely hoped that the boy had forgotten about it. Sam _had_ been young, after all, and since the brand Dean had never seen any signs of the demons who had been after Sam all those years ago. Maybe he had hoped that Annabelle was wrong and the magic would never fade and that Sam would be safe for as long as he lived as long as he… laid low. Maybe he had hoped the hunter he had left Sam in the care of would have done everything in his power to keep Sam out of this fucking messed up world of monsters…

Dean almost smiled at that thought. Dean had never managed to get Sam to do what he didn’t want to do when he’d been six years old. Could he really blame the hunter for being unsuccessful with a rebellious teenage version of Sam?

A sudden intense sadness hit Dean then. Six years. He had missed so much of Sam’s life and he would always regret that. Even if it was the right thing to do, leaving the boy behind.

The vampire sighed wearily.

“We can talk about this later.” He finally said. Dean wasn’t quite willing to admit defeat in this particular argument, but he really was too tired to continue it now. 

* * *

"Sure we can," Sam said, knowing that it won't be brought up, not really. And Sam was all right with that. He had no desire to delve into why he chose hunting over pretending to be a real boy. There was no blue fairy waiting for him at the end of this road, and Sam was okay with this. Maybe eventually he'll want things like a wife, kids, dog and cat and a house, but not yet.

"Let's switch. I doubt Bobby will catch up to us in the two minutes it takes us," Sam said as he tugged lightly on Dean's good arm. Sam wanted to drive now. Dean looked like he was about to keel over and die and Sam would very much like that to not happen. "Come on. Get some rest. Let me drive."

Sam was already starting to wonder if Dean will need blood tonight. His bruises weren't healing, not the way he remembered Dean to heal from six years ago. Who knows how much dead man's blood Rufus injected into Dean... and Dean usually needed blood to heal from that.

They'll drive another few hours, then Sam will stop at a motel and see if he could help Dean out. There were a lot of things Sam was confused about right now, but the need to have Dean healthy and fine was not something he was confused about. And giving a little blood to kick start Dean's healing didn't count as a negative in Sam's book.

* * *

When Sam insisted on them switching places again, this time Dean merely sighed and carefully guided the car to the side of the road. He was too tired to argue. Not to mention if he was really all that worried about Sam’s safety, it wouldn’t help his case if he passed out at the wheel and killed the boy in a car crash or something.

Putting the car in park Dean left the keys in the ignition as he opened the driver’s door. The world tilted a little when he climbed out of the car and he had to lean against the side a moment to keep his balance as he waited for the vertigo to pass.

That moment must have lasted longer than he realized because suddenly he was opening his eyes and Sam was there. The young man guiding him around to the passenger side and helping him back into the car so Dean wouldn’t fall on his ass. Not only would it slow them down but Dean wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get up again if he did fall.

Once he was seated safely in the passenger side of the car, Dean let his head fall back against the seat and closed his eyes.

“Wake me if… something happens…” The vampire muttered and then finally allowed unconsciousness to claim him. 

* * *

Sam worried further when he saw how Dean had trouble even staying upright. He helped Dean to the passenger side and then watched as he pretty much slipped into unconsciousness.

Sam started driving, but his mind was on the vampire next to him. How much blood did Dean need? Would Sam be able to give him that much? _Should_ he give Dean blood? Was it possible to get addicted to a certain person's blood? No, Sam was sure that was unlikely.

Did Sam want to risk it?

If it meant Dean's life, yes.

Sam drove for a long time, hours passing by as he crossed the state line then passed town after town. The sun rose, then hit high noon when Sam stopped, exhausted himself. He found a random motel, pulled into the parking spot right outside the building and then got out of the car, glancing once to make sure Dean was asleep still.

Getting them a room took all of five minutes and then Sam was coming around to Dean's side, opening the door and shaking him awake. He tried to shield Dean from the sun as much as he could even though he knew Dean could handle it. He just didn't want Dean to have to work through even more discomfort than he already was.

"Dean?" Sam shook him awake. "Come on. I got us a room. You can get some proper rest," Sam said, helping Dean out of the car and towards their room as gently as he could. In the light of day, Dean looked even worse. The dark circles under his eyes were pronounced, his eyes and cheeks sunken in. His face was pale where it wasn't bruised, and his bruises were dirty shade of purple. Sam could feel the tremble in Dean's body as he helped him to the room, settling him down on the bed nearest to the door just because i was closer. Next, he closed all the curtains in the room and shrouded it in darkness.

"You'll be alright, Dean," Sam whispered, sitting down next to him, hang hovering lightly over Dean's chest but not touching. He worried and wondered. Last time, the urgency had taken away all uncertainty and Sam had done what he had to do. Now though... for some reason, he felt nervous about offering again. "Do you... do you need to feed?" Sam asked softly, hand finally resting lightly over Dean's heart, feeling the organ beat rapidly against his fingertips.

* * *

It was daylight Dean opened his eyes again in response to Sam gently shaking him awake and the vampire was rather surprised by that. That he had been sleeping so deeply that the discomfort from the sun hadn’t woken him up long ago. Dean wasn’t even wearing sunglasses and he winced a little against the bright noonday light, despite the fact that Sam seemed to be trying to keep him in the shadows.

Dean appreciated the effort, even if it didn’t help all that much.

He let Sam help him out of the car and guide him into the room. The bed the boy eased him down on was much more comfortable than what Dean had become used to lately and he was thankful for that. He was also thankful when Sam started pulling the thick privacy drapes closed, plunging the room into a blessed darkness.

The vampire sighed softly in relief.

“Yeah… I’ll be fine…” Dean reassured the boy softly, even though Sam’s words hadn’t really been a question. Dean felt the bed beside him dip slightly when Sam sat down and he allowed his eyes to slit open. Looking up at Sam, seeing the worry in the young man’s expression. He wasn’t sure how to ease that worry. He _would_ be fine. It would just take time.

When Sam made his… offer… Dean’s eyes widened a little in shock. Did he really look that bad? Maybe he did. The vampire clearly remembered the taste of Sam’s blood, given freely. How good it had been. Something he never… never should have done. Even though he’d been dying at the time. Well, he wasn’t dying now.

Dean shook his head slowly, his hand shifting to rest over Sam’s against his chest.

“No… I just need rest. I’ll be fine.” 

* * *

Sam smiled at Dean's answer, believing him. His hand was warm where Dean's covered it, and that emptiness he'd been feeling for years was gone nearly entirely.

"Alright," Sam said, gently, extricating his hand from Dean's before he stood up. "I'm gonna bring in my duffel and stuff. Just get some rest, okay?" Sam said as he left the room briefly to bring his duffel inside and a few weapons, just to make sure that they were prepared for anything.

Then, after changing into a pair of sweat pants, Sam lay down on the other bed in the room, sighing as he faced Dean's figure in the next bed. His chest was rising and falling slowly, and Sam hoped he was sleeping deeply. Sam worried about Dean a little while longer before sleep overtook him and he drifted off.

* * *

When Dean opened his eyes again it was nightfall. The thick privacy drapes were still drawn closed but he didn’t need to see the world beyond to know. As a vampire he’d always been able to tell when dawn was approaching, he could practically smell the change in the air long before the sky began to lighten. Which was why he knew it was probably sometime after midnight, but still long before sunrise, before he even turned his head to look at the small glowing numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand.

One-thirty. Not a bad guess at all.

The vampire’s eyes quickly drifted away from the clock to the figure lying in the bed next to his. He stared at the sleeping face of the young man, the boy, who meant so much to him. Watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Heard the soft snores and listened to the gentle steady rhythm of his heart. It was very soothing.

He might have been content to remain just like that, watching Sam sleep, until morning. But unfortunately the vampire had other matters to attend to. So, with a regretful sigh, Dean pushed the covers back and slowly sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He remained sitting there on the edge of the bed for a moment, cataloging his most recent injuries.

His head was feeling much better. Clearer. He still felt like he had a pretty bad hangover, but the pain not nearly as bad. His chest still felt very sore but was breathing a bit easier, so his ribs must have at least reset themselves and his lung was starting to heal. His chest still felt a little tight when he took too deep a breath, but he no longer tasted blood on every exhale. That was a very good sign. He brought his arm up and flexed his fingers. His shoulder was still sore but better than before. The same with his arm. The bones would probably still be weak until they were fully mended, but at least they were usable now.

All in all, probably better than he could have hoped for without blood to help him heal.

Slowly Dean stood and wavered a little on his feet before he managed to regain his balance. That wasn’t much of a surprise. He was still weak and he was going to be for a while. At least until he fed. The vampire decided he wasn’t going to think about that for now as he carefully made his way over to the bathroom.

Once there he stripped off his clothes and regretfully stuffed them into the trash before tying off the bag. He hated doing it, especially when he had no clothes to replace them, but with Sam around he couldn’t risk the boy coming into contact with all that vampire blood.

He took a quick shower, enjoying the hot water and the way it helped relax his sore muscles. Dean was tempted to stay in it long after he finished actually washing but there was too much to do. Besides, Sam would need a shower as well, and the boy would probably appreciate some hot water left when he did.

So Dean turned off the faucets and got out, grabbing a scratchy towel off the rack and wrapping it around his waist once he was done drying off. Sam was still sleeping when he returned to the main room, and he silently made his way over to where the boy had dropped his duffel. Most of Sam’s clothes would be too short or too tight on him, but he managed to find a pair of jeans that he managed to squeeze into, and a shirt that ended up pulling pretty tight across his chest. Well, at least he had the body to pull off the ‘outfit’ even if the jeans were bordering on the obscene side and left nothing to the imagination. At least Sam’s jacket covered his ass, and the boy’s boots actually fit pretty well.

Even as he started for the door he knew Sam wasn’t going to be happy about this, but he couldn’t change what he was. You couldn’t ask a wolf to become a bunny rabbit. Sam couldn’t expect him to just stop feeding. He was a vampire. He needed blood or he would die. Plain and simple.

Hopefully he would be back at least before the boy woke up.

*

The city was small, but not so small that it didn’t have a bad part and Dean didn’t have to walk very far to find it. He didn’t have to look very hard to find what he needed either. A few prostitutes stood outside a club, probably waiting for last call at the bar to let out and pick up a few tricks from the drunks exiting.

One of the boys had short blonde hair and a face that was still boyish enough that he almost looked illegal. His eyes told Dean he was much older than his years however. It was really sad how easily Dean could afford his ‘services’ given the vampire’s limited availability to cash recently. But soon enough they came to an agreement on the ‘price’ and Dean followed the boy to the back alley behind the club.

The boy was good. He gave him that. Definitely experienced. He was pretty damned convincing that he was actually enjoying himself the way he touched and rubbed up against Dean. It probably didn’t hurt that Dean was probably a lot more attractive than the boy’s usual clients. Even though the boy hesitated at first when Dean leaned in to kiss him, probably not something he usually indulged in with his tricks, he eventually warmed up to it. Some of the noises the boy made might have even been genuine enjoyment.

Eventually Dean had enough foreplay and turned the boy around, the kid, obviously used to this, went willingly. Bracing himself against the wall with his hands while Dean unbuttoned his jeans and put on the condom the kid has provided him. He entered the young man smoothly and there was no resistance. The boy took him easily and made all the right moves. Moaning and pushing back against him as Dean fucked him. Dean’s hand snaked around and wrapped around the boy’s cock, working him quickly up to hardness and the kid sure as hell didn’t complain. Definitely enjoying himself now and that’s what Dean wanted.

Gripping the collar of the boy’s shirt, Dean tugged it to the side and his fangs descended. Without warning he bit into the young man’s shoulder, the boy jerked in his arms, but the moan he released definitely wasn’t one of pain. Dean fucked into him harder, his hand stroking the boy’s cock faster, as he drank. His other hand covering the boy’s mouth when he suddenly came, muffling the young man’s shout as he spilled all over the wall in front of him. Dean drank greedily the blood that had grown exponentially more potent due to the boy’s pleasure, continuing to drink until the ecstasy had passed and the young man started to sag against him.

At that point Dean withdrew his fangs and his cock from the young man. He hadn’t come himself, but that wasn’t the point. He got what he needed. The vampire let the young man rest against the wall as he did up his jeans, not an easy task given how tight they already were and how hard he was. The boy turned to look at him, blinking, like he was coming out of a trance.

Dean shoved another forty bucks into the boy’s hand, before he turned and walked out of the alley. 

* * *

When Sam woke up, it was to an empty room. He shot up in bed, the last grips of sleep leaving him quickly. Dean was gone. He had left Sam behind again...

Putting his head in his hands, Sam didn't know what to do anymore. He didn't want to believe that he had been played. He had really thought that this time, Dean had been telling the truth when he let Sam come with him. For several long moments, Sam just sat there, in the dark, head in his hands and thoughts whirling in his head.

Finally, he'd had enough and he got up, switching on the lights and realizing that his duffel was open, and a pair of his boots missing. Frowning, Sam saw the discarded clothes in the trash bag, the wet towel thrown on the ground. Dean had borrowed his clothes then?

Picking up the towel, Sam continued looking for other clues that Dean may have left behind. He didn't want to believe that Dean was gone. The car keys were still on the dresser. All the weapons were still there... and most importantly, Sam hadn't been tied up. Was Sam just overreacting? He hoped so.

Grabbing a change of clothes, and deciding to leave the freaking out after he had taken a shower and had something to eat. Ten minutes later Sam was changed, sitting on his bed with the TV on, watching cartoons while chewing on a beef jerky. It was like being back ten years or so, watching cartoons while he waited for Dean to return. Hell, he was even watching Tom and Jerry. He hadn't ever grown out of loving that cat and mouse chase.

Sam looked up when the door opened and Dean entered. The only source of light in the room was the dim bedside lamp, other than the blue glow of the TV, and Sam's eyes widened when he saw the obscenely tight jeans on Dean. Shit... those were Sam's jeans, and they were _tight_ on Dean. And okay, Sam had known that Dean had amazing legs but this was just insane. He cleared his throat, and grinned widely while continuing to chew on his jerky.

"Tom and Jerry is on," he pointed out needlessly. "Where'd you go? It's the middle of the night." As soon as he said the words he realized where Dean _would_ have gone, and his grin slowly fell. He cleared his throat again, sitting up straighter. "Did you kill them?" He asked, chewing slowly on the jerky still, but his appetite was gone.

* * *

As Dean neared the motel he saw the light on in their room, and the vampire sighed softly. Really, the boy had the worst possible timing of _anyone_. Did he have some kind of internal alarm clock that went off every time Dean needed to feed or what?

Well, Dean supposed he should probably be thankful that at least the boy wasn’t waiting in the dark behind the door with a machete or something. Instead when he opened the door he found Sam sitting on the end of the bed watching cartoons of all things.

The vampire couldn’t help but smile faintly at that, even as he tried to brace himself for another argument between them. After all, Sam _had_ threatened to kill him the last time Dean had tried to feed. Even though Sam had plenty of chances to kill him and hadn’t yet didn’t mean that one day the boy might actually go through with it.

Dean couldn’t help but wonder how long Sam’s affection for him would outweigh the boy’s need to protect those innocent human lives he valued so much. How long before the guilt became too much? Before the blood Sam would feel was on his hands for not stopping Dean finally drove him to put a machete through his throat?

Dean pushed those thoughts aside for now, since he already knew tonight would not be that night. At Sam’s first question though Dean’s eyebrow arched, and he didn’t answer. Instead he shrugged off the boy’s jacket and tossed it down on the bed. Did Sam really need to ask where he’d gone, was the boy just playing innocent, or was he in denial? The boy’s smile faded quickly however and then Sam asked the question he really wanted to.

“Not this time.” The vampire answered as he sat down on the end of the bed and started to unite his borrowed boots. He wondered if Sam would even believe him. It was true this time. But would Sam believe him the next time? Or the next? Would Sam believe him if he told him he didn’t even when he did kill? Sam had already claimed he was gullible and cared about him so he’d believe anything. But he couldn’t truly be that blinded by his affection for him, could he? 

* * *

Sam looked at Dean for a few moments, checking to see if he was lying but as far as Sam could tell, he wasn't. Then again, Sam wasn't very good at telling if Dean was lying or not. He didn't know why he was blind to Dean, but while other people couldn't pull shit over Sam easily, Dean managed to do it fine.

He looked for a few moments longer, then relaxed. He believed Dean, mostly because Dean had no reason to lie.

"Yeah, alright," Sam said as he took another bite of his jerky. His eyes returned to the TV, watching the mouse get chased around by the cat. "Feeling better?" Sam asked then, sagging a little as he popped the last of the jerky into his mouth. He'd slept all day, so now he was awake, but technically this is when he should be sleeping. He turned to look at Dean, noting the slight color to his cheeks, the clearer skin and the disappearing bruises. Dean _looked_ better, and the way he was carrying himself told Sam that he was feeling better too.

Sam was glad Rufus hadn't injected him with too much dead man's blood. "Keep the jeans," Sam said, grinning a little. "They look good on you." There was a hint of teasing in his voice, seeing as how skin tight the jeans were on Dean. On Sam, those were his comfort pair. They were slightly larger than usual, and they sat low on his hips and were wide on his still skinny legs. On Dean though, they looked positively sinful. Sam couldn't wait to be that muscular. He was still growing and trying to catch up to his height. But one day, Sam knew he'll fill out his clothes well, instead of looking like the clothes were hanging off him.

* * *

Dean finished kicking off the boots and sat back with a sigh. It seemed like Sam was willing to take his story at face value, at least for the moment, and he was glad for that. He really wasn’t looking forward to having another fight with the boy so soon.

He nodded in answer to Sam’s question before pulling off the tight t-shirt over his head. Yes, he was feeling much better. The blood he’d drunk would go a long way to helping him heal more quickly, even though he hadn’t taken as much as he usually did from his victims.

For some reason the blood was stronger, more invigorating, when the person he drank from was close to orgasm. Probably had something to do with hormones. So he didn’t need as much. It was trick he’s stumbled across quite by accident a long time ago, but definitely useful from time to time. When it was in his favor not to leave bodies lying around.

The only problem with the method was that he needed to drink more often that way. Plus leaving witnesses was definitely dangerous for someone like him. A dead body couldn’t give a description of him to the police, or a hunter, for that matter. Thankfully by the time the victim came to their senses, usually after a few hours or so, the bite had faded to resemble more of a really intense hickey than a bite. Still, it was something he didn’t like to do often.

Dean stood up again, just as Sam made his comment regarding the jeans he’d borrowed and the vampire couldn’t help but laugh.

“They chafe.” Dean replied with mock seriousness, grinning at the boy as he unbuttoned the jeans and started to struggle out of them. Damned things were so tight he was having a hard time getting them off his hips. He’d had to go commando because they were so damned tight.

“Do you have another pair of sweats?” Dean asked as he finally managed to get the jeans off. Clothes shopping tomorrow was definitely on the agenda. 

* * *

Sam's eyes widened as Dean struggled out of the jeans. Shit... Dean was naked under them. Sam quickly looked away, but unfortunately he had gotten an eyeful before he realized Dean was going commando.

"Umm... yeah, sweats, yeah..." Sam said as he got out of bed, heading to his duffel and rummaging through it. He picked out a pair of sweats that were large on Sam and he only wore them when he was injured to avoid uncomfortable contact with wounds. So he figured they would fit Dean more comfortably. He also pulled out a hoodie, in case Dean wanted to cover up on top. The hoodie was a simple gray one that opened up in the front and it was very, very loose on Sam.

"These should fit you fine," Sam said as he handed the clothes to Dean, his eyes stuck to the ground to avoid looking at Dean's certain parts. "I don't have new boxers for you this time, unless you wanna wear one of mine which, yeah, heh," Sam coughed as his cheeks flamed.

* * *

“Thanks.” Dean said as he took the offered clothes from Sam, glad that the boy had something else that would fit him better. He didn’t want to have to struggle back into those jeans any time soon.

He sat down once more so he could pull on the sweatpants though the vampire raised an eyebrow a little at Sam’s demeanor. The way the boy avoided looking into his eyes, and that was a definite blush staining his cheeks.

What was that about?

“No, this is fine.” He replied, tugging on the hoodie but leaving it unzipped.

The silence that stretched after that was a bit awkward, and Dean wasn’t exactly sure why. So he decided to change the subject.

“Are you hungry? I think I saw an all night McDonalds down the road.” Dean offered, remembering the piece of jerky Sam had been eating when he came in.

* * *

Sam looked up again when Dean mentioned McDonald's. Sam had long grown out of wanting Happy Meals, but the idea of getting a burger with Dean was just so nostalgic that Sam couldn't help the smile that spread on his face.

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, grinning. "McDonalds sounds great."

He remembered the day he had promised Dean he'll behave himself and then ran away from him. He remembered hiding in the dumpster, the smell intense but his need to get away was stronger. Oh how things changed. Now it was Sam who had sought Dean out.

Oh so many memories related to McDonalds. The fights, the screaming, and then the quiet times, the simple and happy times. Sam remembered Dean coming home with a Happy Meal in hand, and Sam remembered squealing he was so happy to see it. Those were the things that Sam had remembered that made it so difficult for him to let go of Dean. The little things like the Happy Meals, the gentle tone Dean's voice took when talking to him, the food Dean learned to cook for him, the stories at nighttime, the hugs and sweet kisses and warm cookies.

Sam was getting lost in memories. Shaking his head a little to bring himself back, he looked up at Dean with a smile. "Alright, let's go." He picked up a gun from his weapons duffel, checking to see if it's loaded before stuffing it in the small of his back. Then he quickly grabbed his wallet and keys and headed for the door.

* * *

The way Sam grinned at him when Dean mentioned McDonalds the vampire couldn’t help but return it. Chuckling a little at that familiar sparkle that had always seemed to fill the boy’s eyes whenever those damned golden arches came into view. Some things never changed it seemed, and his heart couldn’t help but warm at the sight. He liked that he could still see some of the boy he’d raised in the young man standing in front of him.

Dean pulled on his borrowed boots once more and stood. Watching as Sam went over to one of his duffels and pulled out a gun. His eyes never leaving the boy as he checked the clip with practiced ease, like he’d done it a hundred times or more, and hid it underneath his shirt.

Yes, some things were the same. Others… were very different. Sam wasn’t a boy anymore. Not the one Dean remembered at least. He was almost a man. A hunter. Dean had told Sam that this was only temporary. He still hoped that he’d be able to convince Sam to give all of this up, to go home and try to live a normal life away from all this… death. But before that, Dean hoped he would have time to get to know the man that Sam was becoming before they parted ways for the last time.

Reaching out Dean smiled as he ruffled the boy’s hair playfully as Sam passed him on the way to the door.

“You need a haircut.” 

* * *

Sam ducked away from Dean playfully when he ruffled his hair, and mock scowled at him when Dean told him he needed a haircut.

"I think it makes me look cute," Sam said, grinning as they stepped out into the cool night air. "Don't you think?" Sam said as he ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in every direction possible before he made a horrific face at Dean. "I think I'm positively irresistible."

Sam didn't last long after that before he dissolved into a fit of giggles. This was the most care free he had been in a long time... and Sam realized that this sounded unfair. Bobby had taken care of him, held him through nightmares, fed him good food and gave him a safe home. Bobby had been an excellent father figure, but Sam had just missed Dean, and he had wanted that vampire beside him.

As naive as it was to still cling to the hope, he wished that Bobby and Dean would get along and Sam could have them both.

* * *

Dean laughed loudly at the boy’s antics, probably waking their neighbors in the other motel rooms, not that the vampire really gave a shit right now.

“Yes, utterly dashing.” He replied dryly.

When they stepped outside Dean zipped up the hoodie since he really didn’t feel like flashing anyone right now. Not that there was anyone really out and about at this time of the night.

“Since we’re on the subject, Mr. Irresistible. Do you have a girlfriend?” 

* * *

Sam grinned as Dean laughed, loving that sound. God, it had been so long since he heard Dean laugh like that.

He shrugged in response to Dean's question. "Nah... who has the time, right? I've had random crushes from time to time but nothing serious, and nothing reciprocated as far as I'm aware."

Sam walked alongside Dean as he thought about it. The question of a girlfriend was one that Bobby brought up often. Sam knew that Bobby wanted him to have a normal life, to do the things normal teenagers did. He wanted Sam to date, to find someone special and go through everything every normal kid went through.

If it was up to Bobby, he would have kept Sam oblivious to all the things that went bump in the night. Unfortunately, it was a bit late for that.

"What about you? Have a secret girlfriend stashed somewhere?" Sam asked, smiling again. He knew it was unlikely, but he might as well ask.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but look at Sam in a little bit of disbelief at Sam’s answer. No one? Never? He certainly couldn’t believe that no one had been interested in Sam. Despite Dean’s teasing, Sam was an incredibly good looking boy. The girls should have been lining up outside his door around the block. But that didn’t really explain Sam’s lack of interest.  


  
The boy’s rather cryptic answer of not having time didn’t really sit very well with Dean. Since there was really only one thing he could think of that could have been occupying the boy’s time enough that he felt he couldn’t _date_.

Hunting. Sam had been too busy looking for _him_. In order to kill him. Or, at least so the boy had apparently told himself until Sam had actually caught up to Dean. Then the boy had ended up saving him… twice… and now…

Dean sighed a little in frustration.

Before Dean could comment however Sam was asking him about his romantic life, or lack there of, and the vampire laughed a little. It wasn’t exactly funny, just ironic.

“No. Not since… well, Annabelle.” Dean chuckled again. “When she was much younger, of course.” 

* * *

"Annabelle?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. He thought back to the nice old lady with the best cookies ever. He remembered her gentle arms, her sweet voice and her unending patience.

"Huh," Sam whispered, thinking about Dean and Annabelle together. He couldn't imagine her any younger, and so the image of Dean and Annabelle smooching grossed Sam out. "Oh, yuck," he muttered, making a face. As the McDonalds loomed closer, Sam prodded Dean further. "So... no one after her? Why not? You're not _that_ hideous," Sam said, grinning as he stepped inside the restaurant, noting how it was entirely empty at this hour save for the few tired looking people standing behind the counter.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but laugh again at the face Sam made at his ‘revelation’. He supposed he couldn’t really blame the boy since when Sam had met Annabelle she’d been a grandmother. But it was still amusing all the same.

“Believe it or not, fifty years ago she was pretty hot.” Dean couldn’t help but tease, then decided maybe he should stop. He didn’t want to traumatize the boy for life. Or make him lose his appetite.

Sam’s question of ‘why’ was a little bit more difficult to answer and Dean wasn’t sure he really wanted to divulge those details to the boy. But maybe it would help Sam understand the reasons why he wanted a different life for the boy. A normal life.

“Well, I didn’t say I never got laid after that. But as far as a relationship?” Dean shook his head a little. “I left Annabelle when I realized I could never give her what she really wanted. A family, kids, someone to grow old with… I could never give anyone that. I can’t even stay in one place for more than twenty years or so before people start getting suspicious about why I don’t age. Then there’s always the threat of hunters…”

Dean looked at Sam seriously.

“Anyone with me would always in danger of something. Whether its hunters, other vampires, or… myself.” 

* * *

Sam realized what Dean was implying and he raised an eyebrow at it but he didn't say anything. He instead went to the counter, gave his order, paid and brought the burger and fries as well as a chocolate milkshake to the table where Dean and him were sitting.

"Alright," Sam said as he licked his lips and opened up his burger. "I know you think I'm in some big danger hanging around you, but I'm not. See? We're having a burger in the middle of the night in a deserted McD's and no one's trying to kill me." Sam took a big bite of his burger, moaning to show just how not in danger he was. "And this is a good burger."

Sam stuffed a fry in his mouth before continuing to talk. "As for you being a danger? Don't hit me again and we'll be fine." Sam slurped his milkshake to swallow down his food before looking at Dean again, more seriously. "I'm serious," Sam pointed out, his tone losing it's levity. "Don't hit me again. Ever." Sam grabbed a fry, stuffing it in his mouth before taking another sip of his milkshake, his actions normal but in his mind he was replaying the sight of Dean's hand rushing towards him and then the darkness that came right after. There was a spark of anger at the memory of waking up tied to the bed, but he pushed it down.

He was glad he was here with Dean, and he wanted to leave everything else behind him. But that didn't mean that he couldn't learn from his mistakes.

He felt a little bad about the fact that he had hit Dean in the car earlier that day and Sam didn't want to be unfair about his demand. Silently, Sam promised himself that he won't hit Dean either. But if Dean ever raised a hand to him again, Sam would fight back. He was not six years old anymore. He could and will defend himself.

* * *

As Dean waited for Sam to get his food he wasn’t sure if that was the end of their conversation or not. He knew that the boy probably didn’t want to hear about all of Dean’s reasons why they shouldn’t stay together. But they were damned good reasons and Sam needed to understand them.

The vampire almost chuckled at that thought. Yeah, right. Fat chance of convincing the boy of that. Sam was nothing if not stubborn when you were trying to tell him something that he didn’t want to hear.

It was only proven when the boy picked up their discussion where they left off once they were sitting down at the table. Either Sam didn’t want to believe him, or he simply didn’t understand the amount of danger he was in. Still, did any teenager? Dean might not have much experience dealing with teenagers on a practical level, but their reputation for taking stupid risks and thinking they would live forever was legendary.

Dean had been a teenager once too.

His mild glare at boy’s cheekiness about how ‘not’ in danger he was right now fell away quickly when Sam mentioned how Dean had hit him. The vampire couldn’t help but wince and glance away in shame.

Not really knowing what to say to that, considering any apology he might make would still never be enough, Dean simply nodded. 

* * *

Sam saw the way Dean glanced away and it made him soften. Emotions had been high that day, and it wasn't like Sam hadn't broken lines and hit Dean either.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry too," Sam said as he looked at Dean, regretting bringing up the sore topic. It had been nice just having a nice, relaxed conversation with Dean and Sam had ruined it. "I shouldn't have hit you either. And I promise not to hit you again."

Sam picked up a fry and pointed it at Dean, trying to get some lightness back between them. "As long as you're not an asshole. Then I reserve the right to whoop your ass," Sam said mock seriously before stuffing the fry in his mouth in as threatening way as possible before grabbing his burger and taking a large bite.

"Buy me a hundred more Happy Meals and we'll call it even. How about that?" Sam offered with a grin as he chewed the processed meat.

* * *

When Sam said he was sorry, Dean looked at the boy in confusion for a moment before Sam elaborated. He certainly didn’t blame Sam for punching him when he had in the car. Dean had certainly deserved it after what he’d said to the young man. If anything, Dean was probably lucky he had gotten away with only one punch.

He realized what Sam was doing when the boy went on, cheeky once again, that he had a right to hit Dean again if he was an asshole. Well, the vampire certainly couldn’t argue with that one. But the relief he felt, that Sam seemed to be forgiving him, was immense.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at Sam’s reference to how Dean had often gotten back into the boy’s good graces when he’d been a child. Rolling his eyes a little, Dean nodded.

“Alright, deal.” Dean replied, picking up one of Sam’s French fries and throwing it at the boy.

“Chew with your mouth closed.”

* * *

"Or what?" Sam challenged with a grin as he dodged the flying fry. He grabbed the remains of his burger, finishing it off as he chewed it, mouth open. "Are you gonna ground me? Hmm?"

It was strange having Dean admonish him over manners again. It was like being ten years old again and Dean saying stuff like 'cover your face when you sneeze' and 'don't eat cookies before dinner' and 'don't chew with your mouth open'. Strangely enough, it was nice hearing Dean say that to him again. Something about that was just so intimate. Nobody tried to fix the manners of someone they didn't care for, and the fact that Dean was doing so now showed that deep down, Dean felt something for him.

This knowledge only made Sam cheekier, because Dean can deny it all day long, but Dean cared for him.

Sam tore off a piece of the napkin and balled it up, throwing it at Dean and laughing as it bounced off his nose. Sam stuck the straw of his milkshake in his mouth, sucking the drink as he threw more napkin pieces at Dean.

* * *

“Brat.” Dean stated the obvious, but his mock glare was pretty much ruined by the grin tugging at his lips. “Maybe I will.”

Yeah right, when had that ever really worked? Probably only reason why he hadn’t grounded the boy more often was because it was pretty much a wasted effort.

Really, sometimes he wondered how they’d ended up getting along so well when Sam was a child. Yes, it hadn’t always been easy. Sometimes they got frustrated with each other. Sometimes they fought. But in the end they always worked it out.

Dean’s eyes crossed a little when the first piece of napkin hit him in the nose. He swatted away the second piece, and rolled his eyes with a laugh at the third.

“All right. You’re done. Lets go.” He said, getting up from the table and ruffling Sam’s hair in retaliation before the boy could dodge away. 

* * *

Sam laughed as Dean ruffled his hair again, trying to dodge it but it was too late. He got up, dumping the containers and everything into the nearest trash can before heading out of the restaurant, his belly full and sated.

Sam walked next to Dean, carefree and relaxed. The cool night air was gentle on his face and Sam smiled the entire time. This was nice, Sam decided. All indecision and nervousness about whether Sam had chosen the right thing or not disappeared. He was certain now that this was what he was supposed to do. All the problems afterwards he'll handle when he got to them.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean was still smiling when they stepped back out into the night, and he felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. He had missed Sam terribly, every day for the last six years. Now just having Sam standing next to him, being able to talk and laugh with the boy, made the bleeding wound in his heart start to heal just a little. He knew it couldn't last. That soon they would have to part ways again, and this time he might never see Sam again. But for now, in this moment, he was content.  


  
But it was all just an illusion. One that came crashing down around him brutally once they reached their motel room.

The light was on. Dean couldn't remember if they'd left it on or not when they left. But it wasn't that which made the vampire freeze where he stood in the parking lot. It was the sight of the door open, just a crack, allowing the light to spill out of the doorway. He knew that he'd closed the door. Locked it. But even that was not what made his blood turn cold in his veins. It was the sight of the bright red handprint smeared on the door next to the doorknob.

Blood…

His hand shot out, catching Sam's arm, and forcing the boy to stop walking. Dean's eyes took in everything around him. His senses all on high alert now. Sniffing at the air trying to discern the slightest smells. But all he could smell were humans. But then, now that he was paying attention, the strong smell of incense of some kind. If his own kind had been here they were here no longer and covering their tracks much like he and Sam had before.

If anything that only made the tension grow inside of him, not ease. He looked at Sam, saw the question in the boy's eyes, but the vampire shook his head slightly. He wasn't willing to speculate yet.

"Stay here. Don't let your guard down." He told the boy, as he let go of Sam and started walking towards their room. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the boy out here alone but if there was some kind of surprise waiting in that room, he didn't want Sam in there either.

So Dean made his way slowly towards the door. His eyes constantly scanning his surroundings for any type of movement. The closer he got to the room the smell of blood became stronger and stronger.

He waited outside the slightly ajar door, listening carefully, but he heard nothing. The smell of blood was nearly overpowering now. Dean pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside. What he saw inside made his jaw drop and his heart practically stop beating.

It was… horrific. Blood covered the walls. The floors. The beds. Everything. Body parts were scattered everywhere. Entrails spread across the floor. The head… it was lying at the foot of Dean's bed. Eyes wide with terror. Mouth open forever frozen in a terrified scream. It was… the boy Dean had fed from not hours earlier. But that was not the worst of it. It was the words written on the wall. In blood.

_He's next…_

Marcus… Marcus had done this. Or at least someone under his command. Dean was sure of it. Marcus was here. So close. Probably watching him right now. Probably had been watching him all night. Maybe even for days. Marcus was playing with him. Just like he had so many times before. Just like he had when he had turned Dean into a monster all those years ago. Letting him go. Letting him run home. Knowing when the transformation was complete Dean would kill those closest to him. He's next… he's next… Sam…

Dean stumbled back, nearly tripping over something that squished under his feet, in horror. His back slamming into the wall next to the door. He looked down. Not wanting to see what he'd stepped on, but his eyes were drawn down almost against his will. It was… a hat… a baseball hat of some kind. Soaked in blood. It took him a moment to recognize it. It had been worn… by the hunter when he'd come to kill Dean. It had been worn by Bobby Singer.

* * *

Sam stopped walking when Dean grabbed his arm. Frowning, Sam followed Dean's line of sight and saw the bloody handprint on the door. The door was open, the light on inside, and Sam's blood froze in his veins. He reached for his gun, nodding when Dean told him to stay out and keep his guard up. Clicking off the safety, Sam stayed alert, keeping a lookout for any kind of movement.

He only lasted a few more moments after Dean went into the room before he was following him in, careful to not get trapped but he didn't know who or what was in the room and Dean hadn't said anything since he went in. Slowly, Sam glanced into the room to figure out just how dangerous it was, and that's when he saw all the blood.

The smell was intense. The metallic tang of it, the sickly sweet smell permeated everything, and it made Sam's dinner sour in his stomach. The blood covered everything, the walls, the floor, the beds... Sam carefully stepped in, watching where he put his foot, and that's when he saw the boy's head on the ground in front of Dean's bed.

"Jesus!" Sam gasped as he stepped back, eyes wide as he took in the boy's young features. His eyes were wide, mouth open in a terrified scream and Sam just stared. "What...?" Sam whispered, eyes seeking out Dean nearly across from him. "Dean... what...?" What was going on here? Who did this? Who's that boy? Sam didn't have the time to ask those questions because that's when he saw the bloodied cap at Dean's feet.

"No..." Sam muttered as he headed towards the cap. "No, no, no, no," he continued whispering until he picked the cap up, the blood covering his hands as he turned it over this way and that. It was Bobby's cap. It was his cap and Sam knew it was that very one he had been wearing just last night. It even had that frayed stitching on the side that spoke of many years of use.

"No no no no no no!" Sam couldn't say anything else. It was Bobby's cap, and it was covered in blood. "Bobby... Bobby... Jesus, it's Bobby's..." Tears filled Sam's eyes as he clutched the cap to his chest, not caring that he was getting blood on him. Bobby can't be dead. Bobby was strong, smart. He could handle himself. Maybe Bobby had to run and he just... he left the cap behind...

That had to be it. Bobby can't be dead. Sam refused to believe it. He had to be okay. Bobby had to be okay. Sam can't lose Bobby. No. Bobby was like a father to him. Loss bubbled up inside him, making his breath stick in his throat and his heart hammer in his chest. He can't lose Bobby. No. He just can't. Sam wouldn't know how to move on from this. Bobby was probably fine at home right now. He had to be.

On the wall, the words 'He's next' taunted him and he looked at Dean. "What...? Who would...?" Sam didn't know how to put into words what he was asking. Who did this? Why? Who was next? Who's that boy? Was Bobby dead? Why would they hurt Bobby?

* * *

The gasped curse from the doorway broke Dean’s momentary paralysis caused by the horrific scene. His eyes went to Sam, and he didn’t have time to feel irritation over the fact that the boy had disobeyed him when he’d told Sam to stay outside. All Dean felt was terror. Absolute terror.

_He’s next…_

No… no, not Sam. He wouldn’t let that happen. Whatever it took, he would not let that fucking bastard lay a hand on Sam. He would not let Marcus do to Sam what he did… Dean’s eyes swept over the carnage of the room once more.

Oh god…

Then suddenly Sam was rushing inside the room. Kneeling down and picking up the bloodied hat. Of course Sam would recognize it, if Dean had recognized it so easily. Dean didn’t know what it meant however.

As difficult as it was, Dean forced down the fear he felt. He forced down the sickness inside him at the grisly display left in their room. He had to think, god damn it. Sam was looking at him now. Desperate. Eyes full of tears. Begging for answers and Dean needed to give them to him. He needed to _do_ something. He couldn’t just stand here.

So, Dean forced himself to look around the room again. To take in the… message… with a more clinical eye. Pieces of the boy… were everywhere. But as far as he could tell, the body parts lying strewn around the room were only from one body, not many. The same with the blood, as much of it as there was, the boy must have been killed here. Torn apart…

Dean swallowed hard, looking down at Sam. He knelt down, reaching for the bloodied cap still clutched in Sam’s hand. Sam wouldn’t let it go however.

“Sam…” His voice seemed to pull the young man out of his own shock a little and the boy released his death grip on the cap. Dean brought the hat up to his nose and sniffed it. The blood, it was the same as the rest of the blood in the room. It belonged to the dead prostitute, not Sam’s friend.

“It’s not his blood. Your friend’s. It belongs to…” Dean nodded with a grimace towards the decapitated head on the floor.

That didn’t mean much however. If Marcus had caught up with one or both of the hunters they could still be dead. It only meant that they hadn’t been killed here. The hunters might mean nothing to Dean, but they certainly meant something to Sam. Marcus was baiting him. Baiting them both…

Dean looked towards the door. The darkness beyond threatening. The walls of the room feeling like they were closing in around him. They could not stay here. They had to leave. Now.

“We need to get out of here.” Dean said quickly, grabbing Sam’s arm and hauling him up. 

* * *

Dean's words offered Sam a little more hope. The blood wasn't Bobby's. That meant there was a slightly higher chance that Bobby was okay. Sam nodded, looking down at the cap in Dean's hand before grabbing it again, clutching it to his chest. He needed to call Bobby. He needed to hear the older man's gruff voice telling him to stop being an idjit, of course Bobby was alright.

He looked up when Dean grabbed his arm and hauled him into standing. Sam kept his grip on Bobby's cap tight but he listened to Dean. He quickly grabbed his duffel bag that was still next to his bed and picked it up, stuffing the few clothes he had lying around into the bag. He'll do laundry wherever they stop next.

The weapons bag was next and then he was hauling it all out, putting it in the Impala's trunk. This time, Sam sat in the driver's seat and started the car, waiting until Dean was sitting next to him before he pulled out of the parking lot, driving away so fast that he burned rubber.

His one hand was still clutching Bobby's cap while his other was nearly white knuckled as it gripped the steering wheel.

"Did Marcus do that?" Sam asked softly, voice shaking a little, eyes wide still from the horror he had seen. It was one thing to go into a vampire's nest and kill every vampire in there... it was another to find your room soaked in blood and the head of a boy on the floor and his entrails on your bed.

What terrified Sam more was that it was almost exactly like the nightmares he had. Rooms covered with blood, coating everything, and covering Sam as well. It had been a while since he had a nightmare like that, but what he had just seen had shaken him anyway.

* * *

At least Sam wasn’t arguing with him this time. Dean was reluctant to release Sam but he did so. Waiting by the door, his eyes darting back and forth in the darkness, while the boy grabbed his belongings that weren’t completely covered in blood. Just because all looked calm and peaceful outside meant nothing to Dean. He knew Marcus was out there. Knew it in his blood. Even though he could not smell his sire he could _feel_ him. It wasn’t simple paranoia.

Marcus had watched him while he’d fucked that boy. He’d been watching him before, when the hunters had taken him prisoner. He must have been watching when he and Sam had escaped. How long had he been watching Dean before that? Since he’d first escaped from Julia and gone on the run with Sam? Anything was possible. Dean had never been able to understand the psychotic workings of that man’s mind.

He waited by the car as Sam threw his things in the trunk. Stood guard while the boy got into the driver’s seat, and only then did Dean get in the car as well. Even then, Dean knew they weren’t safe. Not if Marcus had followed them this far. He was letting them leave for a reason. Dean just didn’t know what that reason was, yet.

He could hear the tremor of fear in Sam’s voice. He certainly didn’t blame the boy, Dean was terrified as well. But as simple as the question was, he didn’t know how to answer it. He could lie. He wanted to lie. But in the end it would only put Sam in more danger if he did. Dean looked down at Sam’s hand still clutching the bloody baseball cap. No one was safe from Marcus. No one.

“Yes.” The vampire answered softly. He might not have any actual proof but he also had no doubt in his mind. “The boy… he was the one I… fed from. Earlier.”

Dean looked up at Sam’s profile. Sam was only a few years younger than that boy had been, but that certainly wouldn’t stop the monster from doing the exact same thing to Sam. So easily Dean could imagine that dead boy’s head replaced with Sam’s. Dead eyes open wide with terror, mouth open forever in a terrified scream. Fear shot through Dean so sharp it left him breathless and shaking.

“How… how did your friends find me?” 

* * *

Sam nodded at Dean's answer. The boy had been Sam's next question, so he was glad he didn't have to ask about him.

But the fact that Marcus had killed the boy Dean had fed from only raised more questions in his mind. How did Marcus know Dean had fed from the boy? Had he been watching them? Did he smell Dean on the boy or something?

He was still wondering that when Dean asked him about how Bobby and Rufus had found him.

Sam licked his lips before looking at Dean. "You have a pattern," Sam said quietly. "Other vampires tend to hit clubs, bars, pick up spots. Places where people go to leave with strangers. You, though... you go for the homeless, the prostitutes, etc. People that can go missing and no one would notice."

Sam put the cap down gently, but carefully on the dash in front of him. "There are more patterns that differentiate you from any other vampire doing the same. You don't kill more than two or three people in one town. You don't kill them right after each other. Often there are weeks between the killings, making it difficult for a pattern to be established."

Sam looked at Dean again. "And... and I know Bobby sent out word. Any hunter who saw someone matching your description gave Bobby a phonecall. After that, it was just a lot of leg work." Sam shrugged. "Rufus has his ways. He's the best damn tracker I've ever seen. He notices patterns that I don't see even after he shows me them."

_'Everything has a pattern, boy_ ' Rufus liked to say.

"You're hard to find, Dean," Sam said softly. "But not impossible."

* * *

Dean could tell that Sam was reluctant to answer his question. He supposed he didn’t really blame the boy. A hunter’s trade secrets and all. Why would you want to tell the monsters how you found them; it just made them harder to find later. But Dean needed to know and he wasn’t going to drop this discussion until he did.

Sam telling him that he had a pattern didn’t sit all that well with Dean. The vampire certainly didn’t like hearing that his efforts to stay hidden had only made him stand out more.

Yes, he knew that the hunter who’d found him, Rufus, was a damned good tracker. It had taken Dean six months to lose the man six years ago, and it had only taken the man three months to find him this time. So, yes, he was damned good. But even the best hunter couldn’t beat out a vampire in tracking. The fact that the hunter had managed to find Dean before Marcus had already seemed strange to Dean…

Now he knew why.

“That hunter… Rufus… he got a call, didn’t he.” Dean said softly. It wasn’t really a question. The pieces were starting to fall into place. Marcus already knew that someone had come to ‘rescue’ him when Julia captured him. Sam’s scent would have been all over that basement. It didn’t matter how much Dean tried to cover it up later.

Dean had hoped, prayed, that Marcus would only care about him. Only look for him. He should have known better. Marcus didn’t just want him back. Marcus wanted to punish him. Break him. What better way than through someone that Dean cared for? Someone who cared enough about him to come to his rescue not once but twice.

Someone, either human or vampire, must have dropped the hunters a tip on where Dean was. Gambling that when Dean was in danger his ‘savior’ would show up yet again to lend a hand. A risky move to be sure. But it had worked. Sam had come. Marcus had all of them together in one place now. The hunters had either been killed to take them out of the game, or captured to be used as bait. It was probably a 50/50 chance whether they were still alive.

Dean looked at Sam. The cold sick feeling in his stomach only growing. Sam would never run while his friends were in danger. If he thought there was some way he could save him. Sam would never forgive him if he even suggested it. But it didn’t really matter. They couldn’t run. Not far at least. Not while Marcus was this close. The net was already closing in around them. Marcus would not stop until he had Dean, until he had them… Sam…

“Stop the car, Sam.” Dean said quietly. There was only one thing Dean could think to do. If he went to Marcus now, willingly, maybe he could stop this. Sam could keep running. He could hide like Dean had shown him. Once Marcus had him, Dean could probably distract his sire enough that the vampire lost interest in Sam. Dean might even be able to bargain for the release of the two hunters, if they were still alive. It was a very, very, slim chance, but Dean could still try. Not that he gave a damned about the hunters who’d tried to kill him, but for Sam he would do it. 

* * *

Sam nodded in response to Dean's question. Bobby had been keeping Sam out of the loop, but from time to time Sam managed to get Bobby to tell him what was going on. Knowing how Bobby and Rufus were tracking Dean didn't take too much persuading, considering that Sam had spent some time with Dean (both six years ago and now) they often asked him about what Sam thought Dean would do next.

Sadly, Sam had found himself unable to answer most questions because the Dean he used to know had been different from the Dean he had met again.

On the way to see Rufus and Dean, Bobby had filled Sam in on the little details, killing time by answering Sam's questions.

Sam's eyes found the bloody cap on the dash of the car, and his heart ached again. Bobby... He really hoped he was alright.

Dean's quiet voice broke through Sam's thoughts and he frowned, looking at Dean in confusion. "What?" Dean wanted him to stop? Here? The road was deserted, it was really early morning and the sun hadn't even begun to rise yet... and Dean wanted him to slow down and stop the car _here_?

"Why?!" Sam asked, confusion only growing as he looked at the vampire next to him.

* * *

Dean growled in exasperation. Why couldn’t Sam ever just do what he said? Just once? Why did he always have to ask questions, debate endlessly, or downright refuse to do what Dean wanted?

“God damn it, Sam. Stop. The. Car.” The vampire snapped, giving the boy his ‘no-nonsense’ glare. The one that meant that Dean was at the end of his rope and the boy better do what he said or there would be hell to pay.

He didn’t want it to be like this. He didn’t want the last time he saw Sam, spoke to Sam, to argue with the boy.

He also didn’t want to think about what he would have to do if Sam didn’t stop the car. Dean was fully prepared to open the door and _jump_ out if he had to. But even if it didn’t kill him it would still hurt like hell. Dean almost laughed at that thought. Sam would probably stop the car _then_. But then he’d never be able to convince the boy to get back in it and drive away. To leave him behind.

He still might not be able to convince Sam to do that. But he had to try.

Dean opened up the glove compartment and found a receipt for a random gas station and a pen, turning the slip of paper over he started to write on it.

“Look… I… I think your friends are here. In town somewhere. I can probably find them, but I need you to keep going. I need you to get as far away as you can and just… keep going.” Dean said as he wrote, once he was finished he leaned over and shoved it into the pocket of Sam’s jeans.

“That’s the address of a bank with a safety deposit box, and everything you’ll need to get the bank to give you what’s in it. All the information to all my bank accounts are inside it. All the properties I still own. All the money you’d ever need to go anywhere, do anything. Take it, and disappear.” 

* * *

Sam's eyes widened as Dean snapped at him, but then his stubborn streak showed and all he did was speed up further. If Dean wanted him to stop, he was going to have to explain why.

When Dean started talking again, Sam frowned. Dean knew where Bobby and Rufus were? And why was Dean talking about going alone...

Oh hell no! Sam wasn't running away while Dean went to find Bobby! He was not a coward, dammit! And this whole 'protect Sam' shtick was getting quite old. Sam was just about opening his mouth to tell Dean off when Dean one upped himself and actually gave him his bank information.

"What the fuck?!" Sam asked, reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out the receipt and without even looking at it, he threw it back at Dean. "You know what? Keep your damn money. And I'm not leaving! The moment you disappear I'm turning the car around and looking for Bobby and Rufus." Sam glared at Dean as he continued driving, eyes glancing between Dean and the road to make sure they wouldn't drive off the side or anything.

Sam was really starting to get annoyed with Dean now. Last time, to get rid of him, Dean had backhanded him into unconsciousness. Now he was paying him off?! Sam didn't know which of the two insulted him more.

"I'm not fucking running," Sam stated, clear and with no room for arguments.

* * *

Dean knew he should have expected that reaction. He knew he shouldn't let it get to him. He knew the anger that flared up inside of him at Sam's stubbornness was driven by fear. No, not fear, absolute terror for the boy sitting next to him. The fact that Dean was even considering doing what he was doing. Giving himself up to Marcus, to save Sam, should have spoken volumes just how much he cared for the boy.

And Sam was throwing it back in his teeth. So, if Dean acted a bit rashly, in anger, who could really blame him?

The vampire reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking it hard to the side. Dean was still a lot stronger than Sam and there was no way the boy would be able to wrestle it away from him. Forcing the boy to either slam on the breaks or send them headfirst into a wall. It was Sam's choice.

Thankfully the young man's sense of self-preservation kicked, and after a screech of metal from a nearby lamp post and relatively minor damage to the paint job, the car finally rolled to a stop.

"This isn't a game, Sam." Dean growled out, refusing to let the boy get a word in edgewise.

"Fine. You're a hunter so you think you can take on the world. But you've never dealt with anything like this. _Ever_. I barely escaped from Marcus once with my life. _If_ your friends are still alive, they won't be for long. I can find them. I can find Marcus. I might even be able to convince him to let them go. But not if you are with me! This was all a trap. He wants _you_. So he can hurt me in the worst way possible. I'm not going to let him do to you what he… what he did to that boy. Do you understand me!"

* * *

Sam couldn't stop Dean from grabbing the wheel and nearly steering them off the road. Sam's instinct kicked in and he slammed on the brakes, causing the car to fishtail a little but they managed to stop without bumping into anything.

Before Sam could yell at Dean, Dean was telling him how it wasn't a game. As Dean continued to talk, Sam's irritation increased more and more until suddenly, it was gone.

Dean wanted to give himself up to Marcus in an attempt to keep Sam safe. If there had been any doubt in Sam's mind that Dean cared for him, it was gone now. According to Dean, the worst thing Marcus could do was hurt Sam... and according to Dean, having Sam safe was preferable to being possibly tortured and hurt for god knows how long at the hand of a mad vampire.

All of Sam's irritation and anger was gone, but the fear and stubbornness remained.

"He won't do to me what he did to that boy. That boy was a civilian. He couldn't defend himself. I can. And that doesn't mean I think I can take on the world, but I'm not a sitting duck either, alright?" Sam explained in a calmer voice. "I'm not going to run, Dean. There's nothing you can do to make me. If you leave now, then I'll just look for Bobby and Rufus by myself. If you're here, then we'll do it together."

Sam reached out a hand, fingers finding Dean's and twining them together. Dean's hand was warm in his, and there was strength in those fingers and Sam held on as tight as he could. "It's your choice now."

* * *

Sam wasn’t hearing him. Not a damned thing he said. Should he really be surprised? No, perhaps not. But that stubbornness and stupid bravery that had first caught Dean’s attention when Sam had been just a child, now made the vampire want to strangle the boy.

Dean glared at Sam hard. Unforgiving. When he finally spoke, his words were just as hard and unforgiving.

“For once in your god damned life, listen to someone who’s lived far longer than you. You _can’t_ fight Marcus. No one can. If you don’t run, you die. Your friends die. I don’t give a shit about them, but for you I’ll try to convince Marcus to let them go.”

Dean snatched his hand away from Sam like it burned him and opened the door.

“Run and live. Follow me and die. That’s _your_ choice. And if you choose to stay, it means you don’t give a shit about me. Everything I suffer will be for _nothing_.”

With that Dean got out of the car and slammed the door shut. 

* * *

Sam watched, shocked as Dean slammed the car door shut, walking away from him. He didn't know what to do anymore. How could he do what Dean was asking and leave him to die? And if he went with him, tried to protect him, then Dean was sure it'll end badly. This was a lose-lose situation and it was driving Sam mad.

He got out of the car as well, running after Dean and catching up to him quickly.

"Dean, please, listen to me," Sam said as he stood in front of him, trying to put his thoughts into something resembling coherence. "I care for you, okay? And you're asking me to abandon you to save my own skin. I... I understand why you would do something like this, because I'd do the same for you. But... but you gotta understand. There's Bobby, and Rufus, and _you_. That's it. That's all the people in my life and everyone I care about." Sam licked his lips, running a shaking hand through his hair. "You're asking me to let go of one of them!"

Sam reached out, taking Dean's hand once again and hoping Dean won't push him away again like last time. "You gotta understand. I'm not choosing between listening to you or not. I'm choosing between trying to save the people I care for, and saving my own ass."

Sam pleaded with Dean, not wanting to see him go alone. "Please, Dean. Isn't there a third option? Can't we work together and figure this out?"

* * *

Before Dean had even walked a handful of steps he heard the car door open and growled dangerously in the back of his throat. He should have been touched by the amount of devotion the boy displayed towards him, something Dean had no right to considering how much he’d wronged Sam. Deep down he was touched. Humbled even. But no matter how much affection he felt towards Sam that didn’t stop the vampire from being extremely pissed off at the young man right now. Because Sam’s disobedience wasn’t just an inconvenience right now, Sam was risking his life! The boy had no idea how much danger he was in right now. Danger that was only increasing by the second as Sam remained here debating with him.

The glare he leveled on the boy when Sam stood in front of him, as though that could keep Dean here, was unforgiving. He refused to show how the young man’s words affected him. How they made him just want to hug the boy and never let him go, and simultaneously knock him over his stubborn head, throw him in the trunk, and never stop driving until he was sure Sam was safe.

But that wasn’t an option now, and they were rapidly running out of time.

Dean snatched his hand away from the young man. Hating himself for doing so, but he couldn’t care about that right now. He would much rather Sam hate him forever and safe than watch as Marcus did even half of the things to the boy that he’d done to Dean. And Marcus would make him watch. Would make him listen to Sam screaming. Every fucking second, until Dean was begging him to kill Sam just to spare him.

“Asking the same fucking question different ways is not going to get a different answer, God damn it!” Dean growled at the boy, his eyes flashing red and his fangs descending. “I’ll kill you myself rather than let Marcus get his hands on you.”

This time it wasn’t an empty threat. Dean was absolutely serious. It would kill him to do so. But he would do it.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and Dean looked around wildly. He sniffed the air and froze. Vampires. A lot of them, not weak fledglings either, and more than he could handle alone. They were being hunted. The cats done toying with the mice and closing for the kill. He knew it was foolish to hope that Marcus would wait for Dean to come to him, but he’d still hoped all the same.

“Get out of here. Now god damn it! Go!” Dean shouted at Sam, demanding and pleading at the same time, he grabbed the boy’s arm and shoved him towards the car. 

* * *

This time, Dean's threat was real, and Sam could see it in his eyes. Surprised, Sam took a step back, shaken by the determination in Dean's voice. Dean really would kill him before Marcus got his hands on Sam. For a split second, Sam's heart broke again. Sam kept trying and trying and trying to be gentle with Dean. He wanted to be with Dean, stay next to him, but it seemed that all Dean wanted was to get rid of him.

The hurt dissipated quickly though, as Sam's brain chimed in that for Dean, being caught by Marcus was a worse fate than death.

Sam took another few steps back when Dean shoved him towards the car, telling him to get out of there. There was urgency in Dean's voice now, and Sam knew he should listen to him. And he would have... but how was he supposed to leave Dean behind?

He looked around, as though he could see whatever it was that Dean was sensing. But he couldn't. There was nothing in the distance. The road was till dark and silent, no cars for miles on end, but Dean was looking more and more panicky by the moment.

Sam knew what he had to do, and he knew Dean wouldn't like it but he supposed what Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "Alright," Sam said softly, taking another step back. "I'll go... but... but I promise I'll look for you. I'll come for you, Dean," Sam said as he turned to run, heading towards the car. He had to figure out who this Marcus guy was. He had to track him, find him, and kill him.

He was going to hunt Marcus or die trying. That vampire had gone after all the people in the world that Sam cared for, and Sam wasn't one to hide and count his losses and be glad to be alive. He'd never been one to put too much stock into living anyway. What does he have to live for if he doesn't have Bobby or Rufus or Dean? He won't ever have a happily ever after with a two story house and a dog and a wife. He won't have a steady stable job, he won't have financial security. Hell, he'll be lucky if he survived till thirty.

It was freeing to not worry about your own mortality, but at the same time it was damning... because all Sam cared about was the mortality of everyone he loved.

Sam slammed the car door shut and slammed down on the accelerator. In the rearview mirror, Dean's figure grew smaller and smaller, and Sam felt like he was betraying Dean by leaving him behind. He was supposed to be there, standing next to Dean with guns and knives, and he was supposed to give Marcus hell.

This wasn't right, and no matter how much Sam tried to convince himself that he wasn't running, that he'll return in a more strategic way, he couldn't make the guilt go away. Where was he supposed to go now anyway? Bobby... Rufus... they were missing. And Dean was... Sam had left him behind... where was Sam supposed to go? There was no one else...

Only a short while later, Sam came upon a crossroads, and he didn't know which direction to go except one. He gave it about five minutes thought, and then turned the car around.

* * *

As Dean watched the red taillights of the Impala disappear into the darkness he felt no sense of victory. Only that he had delayed the inevitable. If Marcus truly wanted to find Sam there was little Dean could do to stop him. It was only a matter of time. Dean could only hope that he could successfully distract the sadistic vampire enough that Marcus would lose interest in Sam. He had to hope it was possible. That it would not all be for nothing.

Dean could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

“Goodbye, Sammy.” Dean whispered into the darkness, then turned to face the direction they’d come from. Standing in the middle of the deserted street he waited. He didn’t have to wait for long.

He could smell them long before he saw them. Slithering out of the shadows into the pale light cast by the surrounding street lamps. There were ten of them. A few he recognized as children of Marcus who had been turned after him. Dean knew some of them had escaped the blaze Dean had set, the fire he’d thought had killed his sire, and scattered the coven. But he’d never known how many of his brothers and sisters had survived. He hadn’t cared. The others must be new children of his sire, none of them as old as Dean but still old and strong enough he knew he couldn’t overpower them.

Not that he was planning on trying.

“Awww…. What’s the matter, Dean? Didn’t you like our little present?” Julia’s voice grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. When she finally stepped into the light he saw her normally beautiful face was horribly scarred on one side. No doubt Marcus’ punishment for allowing him to escape once. As much as he hated Julia, Dean took no satisfaction seeing it.

“Take me to Marcus.” Dean said calmly, refusing to react to her baiting. But he should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. Julia smiled at him in a way that would have been sweet if not for the cruelty in her eyes and backhanded him hard enough to knock him to the ground. She must really be pissed at him to risk Marcus’ wrath again by marking him up. Either that or suicidal.

“Have you lost your pretty little toy, Dean? The two of you looked so sweet together and Marcus was so looking forward to playing with him too. Don’t worry. The others will find him soon.”

He tried not to rise to the bait. He really did. It would only make things worse showing how much he cared for the boy. But the threat against Sam wiped away most of Dean’s rational thought and he growled viciously, his eyes burning red, and his fangs bared. But before he could do anything the other vampires converged on him.

***

When Dean awoke it was with a feeling of déjà vu. He hadn’t really recovered yet from the beating he’d received at the hands of the hunter. Now he found himself in much the same position, chained to a chair in the middle of a dark room, only with more bruises and broken bones than he’d had before.

He wasn’t alone.

Slowly Dean lifted his head, blood dripping into his eyes, but not that he needed them to know that it was Marcus standing not three feet in front of him. Vampires never forgot a scent. He was… exactly as Dean remembered him. He couldn’t have forgotten if he tried. His scent. His appearance. The suit was perhaps a little more modern, but his face, his eyes… cold, cruel, insane… they were exactly the same.

* * *

It didn't take long for Sam to return to where Dean had been, but it had been long enough. There was no trace of the vampire, and even though there were no signs of struggle, Sam knew that Dean hadn't just left. Marcus, whoever he was, had Dean. And Sam had no idea where he was or how to find him.

It was with a heavy heart, and anger in his eyes, that Sam got back into the car. He shouldn't have let Dean go. He should have stood there and fought. So what if he died? He would have died protecting someone he cared for. Instead, now he was alive and alone. Feeling like a coward, Sam vowed to get Dean and Bobby and Rufus back, even if it killed him.

 

*

 

It was a beautiful night for some blood, Marcus thought as he walked down the large ornate hallway with plush carpeting and gold fixtures. His favorite toy was back with him and Marcus couldn't wait to play. Dean had been his masterpiece. The first time he had laid eyes on that boy... the green of his eyes, the mischief in his smile, those strong hands... Marcus had known he had to have him. Forever. There had been a gentleness in Dean. He had a warm heart, a kind soul, and a caring demeanor. To turn such a man into a monster... now _that_ was power.

Two of fledglings opened the door to the basement for him, and Marcus smiled at one of them which made the fledgling cower. Perfect. He glided down the stairs, one hand barely resting on the railing while the other ran through his shoulder length chestnut brown hair. Once upon a time, he had long beautiful hair but that kind of thing was very noticeable on a man these days. And while Marcus loved being noticed, it was in his best interests to be able to disappear without a trace. With all the little hunters breeding and teaching their crotch-droppings to do the same, the world had become much more dangerous lately.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs and found Dean sitting in a chair, chained to it and looking bloody and beaten, Marcus clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Did I not state clearly that Dean was to be harmed as little as possible?" Marcus asked, looking at all the broken bones and bruises. "I was looking forward to playing with him, but now he's broken," Marcus sighed as he continued to watch Dean slowly wake up. As Dean's eyes found Marcus' he got excited again. He had his toy back! His beautiful, gorgeous creation! The monster that had once had a heart of gold!

"Dean... oh how I have missed you," Marcus said as he stepped forward, gently brushing the back of his fingers against Dean's bruised face. "I am so glad you're here. I have been looking for you for so long... centuries, it feels like." He looked down on Dean with soft eyes, fingers tracing one of the cuts on Dean's face with a feather light touch. "You hurt me so much, Dean, but I still love you... we can be a family again. Isn't that nice?" Marcus asked, smiling.

* * *

Dean swallowed hard but didn't flinch away from the touch to his face. Even though Marcus' touch felt like spiders crawling across his skin. As much as he wanted to turn and bite the hand that caressed him possessively, even knowing the punishment he would receive if he did, he remained still. Doing his best to force down any hint of defiance as he stared up into the cold dark eyes of his sire. Cold. Always cold. No matter how warm or satiny soft his voice may be. Madness lurking just below the surface of those dark pools.

Often Dean had wondered if the other man had been insane even before he had been turned into a vampire. Or if it had been a slow progressing madness brought on by the passing of the centuries. Forever watching the world change around you while you remained frozen in time. Perhaps madness was really all Dean had to look forward to, if he survived that long. Dean had many reasons to hate Marcus but sometimes he wondered if one of them was because he felt like he was looking into a mirror. Looking into his future.

For a brief flicker of time he'd thought it could be different. When he'd found Sam. When he'd grown to love him. But now... now the only thing he could do was hope to distract Marcus long enough that Sam could get far away. Perhaps long enough that the elder vampire might forget about the boy completely.

So he would play along with this sick game. Give his sire exactly what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He knew all too well how a 'gentle' touch one moment could turn excruciating in the next. All kind, soft, smiles and a voice like silk whispering in your ear as you screamed. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered if it kept Sam safe.

"Yes." Dean whispered, the word almost sticking in his throat like glass but he managed to force it out. "I'm sorry... master..."

* * *

Something flickered in Marcus' eyes for a moment, too brief to be caught before Marcus reigned it back in. He hated it when Dean lied to him, and he was lying now. But the happiness of having his favorite toy back overrode his irritation. He continued to smile, his fingers trailing down Dean's cheek to find his lips, thumb caressing the soft plumpness of Dean's lower lip.

His lips were one thing that Marcus could never get over. He had roamed the earth for centuries, and seen all kinds of beautiful people. He had been in the company of men and woman so beautiful they were ethereal. But Dean? Nobody could surpass Dean. His ruggedness, the way he held himself, the softness in his eyes and the deepness of his voice. Dean was the perfect combination of lover and warrior. And Marcus hadn't found another like him.

"But you are not," Marcus said softly. "Was it not you who burned down my house and tried to kill me and my children? Was it not you who evaded all my attempts to get you back?" Marcus' hand slid down to Dean's chin and pushed his face up so that he could stare into Dean's eyes. "Let's be honest here, Dean. You are here because I threatened your plaything. You think I do not know you? There is no need to play games."

Marcus let go of Dean's chin and snapped his fingers once. A vampire quickly brought an ornate armchair to him and put it behind him as Marcus sat down, crossing his legs at the knees fluidly before leaning back in the chair, one hand resting on his bent knee and another playing with a lock of hair over his shoulder. "Tell me, Dean, why are you here?" Marcus asked, smiling. "Why did you not run with your toy? It loves you. I can see that. Surely, you can see it too. It is such a pretty thing too. I can see why you are entranced by it. Even though it is a hunter, there is an innocence about it. It is so tempting to own that." Marcus thought for a moment before shaking his head lightly. "But no. It is your plaything. I am sure you desire to sire it one day?"

* * *

Dean saw the change in Marcus' eyes. Most probably would have missed it. The other vampire probably thought he'd hid it in time, but Dean had spent decades learning to see it and fear it. It meant he'd pissed his sire off and what followed was usually excruciating. Dean winced a little in memory even though the older vampire didn't raise a hand to him yet. Merely continued to caress his face with his cold fingers. That was nearly as bad.

Dean had known it was a long shot, but he'd had to try the easy route first. He'd been away from the other vampire's side for decades. He didn't know how far Marcus had slipped into madness. He should have known better however. His slaver would never believe he'd broken again this easily.

Sometimes it had worked. Playing the dutiful whipped pup that Marcus liked to think he was. That had been a century ago when Marcus had him for many years already. Marcus wanted to hurt him. To punish him. He wasn't going to let him take the easy route.

Dean swallowed hard. The words Marcus spoke were soft but they were edged in steel. The tremor that ran through him, one he knew the other vampire would see and feel, wasn't merely for show. He couldn't help it when he jaw clenched when Marcus called Sam a 'plaything'.

Plaything. Toy. Dean knew _exactly_ what the other vampire was implying when he used those words. He thought Dean used Sam like Marcus himself had used Dean for all those years. The very thought made Dean sick to his stomach. Sam was just a boy! Dean might be a monster but he was not the kind of monster that Marcus was.

But as much as he wanted to rage and deny that Sam was a 'toy' Dean held his tongue. If that was all that Marcus thought that Sam meant to him then he was in luck. Dean could use that to his advantage. Marcus liked to think that no one could lie to him, but that was merely arrogance. Dean knew exactly how to fool the older vampire. If he hadn't, then he never would have been able to nearly kill him all those years ago.

The trick was simple really. To sprinkle enough of his lies with actual truth that they sounded true. Dean had learned the trick well. Learned it from Marcus himself really. If Dean could lie to himself so well he could certainly lie to Marcus.

Dean did not relax, even as Marcus moved away from him slightly and sat down. Hell he wouldn't have relaxed even if the other vampire was clear across the room. Even though the other vampire was out of his 'personal space' that was only a light reprieve. Dean knew just how fast and how strong Marcus had been. Julia said he was stronger than ever now and Dean did not doubt her.

"He is not a toy." Dean said softly, allowing the disgust he felt at that implication to come through in his words. It was true enough, Sam didn't mean that to him. Now he just had to convince the other vampire that Sam didn't mean _more_ to him than that. "I found him as a boy. Kept him as a pet for a time. Until I grew tired of him and when the hunters came for him I let them have him."

Not exactly the truth but hopefully close enough.

"I killed the boy's father. He had been looking for me in order to kill me when he found me in that house." That, again, was true enough. Even if Sam decided not to kill him afterwards. He had to make Marcus believe that Sam finding him and freeing him was nothing more than a coincidence. The boy had just gotten lucky. He hadn't been _trying_ to save him.

"He liked to think he hated me but he still thought of me as some kind of twisted father figure. But he still cared for me. I managed to convince him to help me escape. He was a fool. You should understand that." Dean growled out the last, letting the bitterness drip from his words. Most of Marcus' children thought of him the same way. They worshiped the insane vampire like he was some kind of god. They thought Marcus actually cared for them. They were merely foolish puppets.

"I left him the first chance I got." He could only hope Marcus wouldn't question why he'd only left Sam instead of killing him. "But his annoying hunter friends continued to track me. I should probably thank you for getting rid of them for me." Yes, he had promised Sam that he would try to save his friends, but Sam was by far Dean's first priority. Dean would gladly sacrifice them to save the boy.

"I'm here..." Dean paused for a moment before continuing wearily. "Because I am tired. I'm tired of running."

It was the truth, even if it was just a small portion of the truth. 

* * *

Marcus' lips stretched into a wide smile as Dean talked. Oh the stories that he spun. Oh there was truth in them, Marcus was sure, but there was one other thing that Marcus was sure about that Dean didn't know.

The boy was not merely a pet. It was more than that. It was written all over Dean's face when he claimed that the boy was not a toy. What Dean didn't say, Marcus heard.

"Finally the truth spills from your lips," Marcus said as he got up again, coming close to Dean and leaning in to kiss his lips gently. He pressed a little, feeling the blood on Dean's lips and licking it off. The blood was bitter with hatred and anger, but there was also that salt of sadness in it. He ended the kiss and straightened up, smiling at Dean again.

"It is your decision now, Dean," Marcus said as he caressed the side of Dean's bruised face. "Spend the night in the basement, tied to a chair, or you're welcome to my bed." Marcus' hand drifted down to Dean's neck and wrapped around it, squeezing in warning. "Don't get ideas though. I'm far stronger than you think I am," Marcus' eyes flashed red and his teeth grew, face twisting into the monster he truly was. "And this is your _last chance_. Fuck this up and I'll tear you to pieces and then I'll go for that toy of yours!" He snarled, words like venom and spikes before the redness faded away and Marcus' hand around Dean's neck relaxed, caressing the spots where his fingers had dug bruises in. His expression softened, and he was back to being his composed self.

"I so dislike losing my temper," Marcus said quietly, regretful. "Don't make me do that again. I really do love you. And I would love for you to be mine once more." He leaned down and kissed Dean's lips again. "Or I might have to replace you," Marcus sighed. "And I'm thinking of going younger. Maybe if I sire them early, they'll retain that innocence. What do you think, Dean?" Marcus knew Dean wasn't nearly dumb enough to not get that threat. If Dean didn't behave, Sam was on his radar. Not because Marcus particularly wanted Sam. He was much too young... at the moment. If the boy retained his beauty as he grew older, then maybe Marcus would like him in his bed. But right now, if Dean didn't behave, Marcus would have to hunt that pretty little toy down and break him.

* * *

Dean held his breath as he waited for Marcus' reaction to his words. His heart hammering a hard rhythm against his ribcage that left it feeling almost bruised. He knew Marcus could probably hear it. He knew the other vampire could probably smell his fear, but there wasn't much Dean could do about that.

Would Marcus believe him? What would the older vampire do if he didn't? Dean didn't really care what Marcus would do to him. But what would happen to Sam? He _had_ to make Marcus believe him. He _had_ to make the other vampire believe that he didn't need Sam. Dean didn't care what he had to say. He didn't care what he had to do. As long as it kept Sam safe...

Dean tensed when Marcus smiled at him in that same cold cruel way he had always feared and hated. He couldn't stop himself from tensing when the other vampire rose from his chair. His muscles drawing so taunt that they trembled when he leaned in close, but Dean did nothing to resist when the other vampire kissed him. Even though couldn't have stopped the tremor of disgust from shaking him if he tried.

It would take some... getting used to... Marcus touching him again.

Marcus'... offer... filled Dean with a sick feeling but also with hope. Had he succeeded? Had he convinced the other vampire to leave Sam alone? The hand that closed painfully around his throat and the expression on Marcus' face probably would have made lesser men piss themselves. But all Dean felt was relief.

Marcus didn't need threats. Dean had no intention of stepping out of line. He would do whatever the insane vampire wanted of him. If it meant Marcus would forget about Sam, focusing on him instead, that was just fine with Dean. It was a price he would willingly pay.

"I'm yours."

* * *

Marcus smiled as Dean said he was his. This time there was no deception in Dean's voice and Marcus believed him. It was written all over Dean's submissiveness. Marcus had found Dean's soft spot, and it was that boy. No matter how much Dean denied it, because if the boy truly hadn't meant anything to him then Dean would be fighting right now. Just like he had fought when Marcus had first claimed him. Just like how he had fought when he ran from him a lifetime ago. And just like how he had fought to stay hidden.

The moment Marcus threatened Sam though, and Dean was in his grasp. Marcus wasn't so naive to think that there was nothing between Dean and that hunter.

Marcus gestured at Julia, wordlessly instructing her to untie Dean and release him. Julia did as he said, and then Dean was free. "You are not allowed out of the house until I can trust you again," Marcus warned as he gestured at Dean to follow him before he turned to head upstairs. The doors to the ground floor opened to reveal a thick plush carpet and ornate lighting and paintings adorning the walls. Marcus had a taste for luxury, and he loved to revel in beautiful things. "But you are allowed to roam the house as you wish."

He lead Dean through the hall and up a winding mahogany staircase to the top floor where he entered a giant bedroom. The large windows in the room were covered with heavy velvet drapes that didn't let in a ray of sunshine, and the bed was covered with silk sheets and a thick, soft blanket. The room had another door opening to a large, luxurious bathroom.

"Please do go clean up. You look like you were dragged down the road by horses. And get rid of those filthy clothes. I'll give you clothes fit for someone of your beauty," Marcus said as a fledgling vampire walked in with silk pajamas. "Put these on after you bathe. Then join me in bed." The fledgling vampire left after handing the clothes to Dean and Marcus closed the bedroom doors, leaving Dean and him alone.

 

*

 

Sam couldn't find a trace of Dean. Not only that, but all the vampires in the city had suddenly dropped off the radar. He contacted everyone he knew, but no one knew where Bobby and Rufus were. Sam didn't ask about Dean, because that would be difficult to explain.

He spent days trying to find any trace of any of them. He wanted them all back. Bobby's blood soaked cap still sat on the dashboard of the Impala, reminding Sam of the ticking clock. The longer he didn't find them, the more chances were that they were dead. But no, Sam wouldn't rest until he had their bodies in his hands. Only then will he stop looking for them.

And Marcus... Marcus had all of them. He was Sam's target. All Sam had to do was find that one vampire and he'll find everyone. And Sam _will_ find Marcus, even if it was the last thing he did.


	10. Chapter 10

  


The library was dark even though it was nearly mid day. Heavy curtains were pulled shut over the large floor to ceiling windows and did not allow even a sliver of light into the room. Effectively plunging the room into an eternal twilight.

It was a shame really. Since the view from the library overlooking the vast grounds of the old mansion was pretty stunning. The curtains were probably put up originally to protect the multitude of books and manuscripts lining the numerous shelves in the room. Whoever had owned the home before had obviously been a collector. Many of the books being very old, and probably very expensive, original first editions, and meticulously cared for. Now they gathered dust like most everything else in the room.

Dean sat in one of the antique arm chairs next to the large stone fireplace. There was no fire burning in the fireplace. In fact, it had probably gone unused for quite a long time, lined with cobwebs like everything else. There was a chill in the air that was biting, seeping its way down from his numb skin straight to his bones, making them ache. However in spite of all this, he had no desire to start a fire.

He hadn't come here for the fireplace, or the books, or the view. Dean had come here to be alone.

Oh, he was certain there was some fledgling nearby. Keeping an eye on him. But for now he was alone as he was going to be. Alone with his thoughts. Sometimes he thought that was a worse punishment than anything else. Maybe that's why Marcus allowed it.

Dean shifted a little in the chair and winced. The wine colored long sleeved shirt he wore was of the softest silk but even that was enough to aggravate the long deep scratches along his back. They weren't the only marks he bore but at the moment they were the most painful. If he had been strong the deep rents might have closed by nightfall, but as it was he would probably have them for a few more days at least.

The whore he'd fucked and fed from, the one Marcus' minions had killed, before he'd been taken had replenished a small amount of his strength, helped him recover a little from the dead man's blood and beating he'd received from the hunter, but it wasn't nearly enough. It had been more than a week since he'd handed himself over to Marcus and the older vampire hadn't allowed him to feed since then. Normally Dean could go several weeks between feedings if he had to, but not with... not with the way Marcus used him, hurt him, bled him every night.

Dean closed his eyes, a low animalistic growl sound emitting from the back of his throat. Pathetic. He was pathetic. This was nothing he hadn't endured before. This wasn't even the worst that Marcus had ever done to him. Probably wasn't the worst that Marcus had planned for him now. He could endure it. Another hundred years or so. That's all he needed to endure. Sam would have died from old age by then, if not sooner. Then... then it could be over.

Oh, Dean had no desire to try to run, to escape, as he had before. He was done. Tired. When it was over he would kill himself. If he could somehow take out Marcus at the same time, that would certainly be a bonus. But as long as he could end his own pathetic miserable existence, that's all he cared about. Until then... he would endure.

He opened his eyes again, staring into the cold blackness of the large stone fireplace. He imagined it was kind of like looking into the mouth of hell. There was only one problem. Sam's friends. The hunters. He had promised Sam he would try to find them. To free them if he could. They were here. Still alive if the whispers he'd heard were true. He had no idea what shape the two men were in, probably not good all things considered. But alive. As long as they were alive and as long as Marcus had them he knew Sam would not stop looking for them.

That was why when the old grandfather clock began to chime at exactly noon Dean slowly uncurled himself from his seat. Most of the vampires would be asleep. Oh, there were certainly guards. He was certainly being watched. That was why he had to be careful, so fucking careful, but he had to find those damned hunters. Free them if he could.

He had made a promise.

* * *

It had been five months since Bobby and Rufus and Dean had disappeared. Five months since Sam had been hunting solo, and in those five months Sam felt like he had aged ten years. He envied the people of the world who didn't know of the horrors in the darkness. He envied the children who still had their families and their friends and their homes. He envied them all, because he had loved and lost and loved and lost again.

Sam worked day and night, trying to find one clue as to the whereabouts of Marcus. He found nothing. No vampire would speak of him, no matter how much he tortured them. Turns out, the punishment for betraying Marcus was worse than death. Sam's frustration often led him to killing the vampires in the bloodiest way possible.

Every single day when he saw that empty bed next to him, he knew that he couldn't give up. If finding Marcus was the last thing he did, then so be it. As long as he managed to get one hit in, he'll die happy.

Then he found Bobby and Rufus. Or rather, Bobby and Rufus found him. They were in a hospital, injured badly and recovering, but they managed to contact Sam who came rushing to them. The doctors said that Rufus was still critical, and Bobby was paralyzed from the waist down.

Seeing Bobby and Rufus like that... one unconscious, the other paralyzed... it only strengthened the hatred Sam felt for Marcus. He had never met the vampire, but he hated him more than he had ever hated anyone. The relief of Bobby and Rufus being alive was overshadowed by their injuries, and the fact that Dean was still missing.

Trying to find out where Bobby and Rufus had been held and how they escaped was like pulling teeth. Sam knew Bobby didn't want to tell him because he thought, and rightfully so, that Sam would go rushing in to find Dean. And because Bobby wasn't particularly attached to Dean, in fact was still convinced that Dean had kidnapped Sam, he was extremely reluctant to answer Sam's questions. But eventually he did, if only to make sure that Sam wouldn't go in half cocked and blind. Promising Bobby that he'll leave things alone if it got too dangerous, Sam started planning. He hated lying to Bobby, but he had no doubt Bobby knew that Sam had no intention of leaving Dean behind.

Dean had always said that Sam's stubbornness would get him into trouble... and Dean had been right.

 

*

 

Marcus opened the door to the room Dean was in. His favorite pet often came here to brood, and Marcus let him because Dean was gorgeous like that. He was like the most perfect mannequin, his beauty frozen as he sat there in a chair and stared at the grandfather clock, surrounded by darkness and decay. Marcus loved how Dean was attracted to the dark, seeking out the most decrepit and least used room in the house when Marcus had made sure he had silk sheets to sleep on and velvet curtains to block out the sun.

"Oh come now, Dean," Marcus said with a smile. "I let the hunters go as you wished. True, I made sure they'd never be a threat to us again, but I set them free anyway. I do not understand what more you wish of me," he said as he went to Dean and put a hand on Dean's cheek, caressing the soft skin. Dean's smile was the ultimate gift though, and Marcus longed to see the smile that had attracted him so long ago. He could remember it now, Dean standing in the middle of a field, laughing as he talked to someone, the sun making his hair glow and his eyes shimmer... and his smile... Marcus longed for the way it had made Marcus yearn to own this man.

"I do everything you ask. I cherish you more than any of my other children. And yet you look so sad always." Marcus leaned down, pressing his lips onto Dean's for a moment. "And you continue to taste of sadness."

Marcus straightened up, looking down at Dean for a moment before he looked excited for a moment. "Oh, I know! I'll give you a present! I know this will make you so happy!" He said as he clapped his hands briefly, looking almost like an overgrown child. He grinned widely as he looked at Dean. "It's in your room. It has a red ribbon on it! Oh I so do love red ribbons! And you deserve it for being so perfect!" He said before he gleefully left the room, urging Dean to follow him.

 

*

 

Sam woke up slowly. head swimming from the blow he had received. He didn't even know what happened. He was hiding outside the building Bobby had said he escaped from, staking out the place when he was hit over the head and he passed out. Now he was waking up, god knows how long later, lying on a bed covered in silk sheets, hands tied behind his back and duct tape covering his mouth. On top of it was a red ribbon bow, and it felt absolutely ridiculous.

He shifted a little and realized his legs were tied together too, and that he was barefoot and shirtless, but thankfully his jeans were still on.

He looked up blearily when the door opened and a man came in. He was gorgeous, with dark eyes and long, soft looking chestnut hair. The man looked at Sam before smiling and coming to him. Sam's eyes were wide, wondering what was going on before the man reached out and fixed the ribbon taped over the duct tape.

"Such a pretty present it makes," said the man gleefully. Sam was sure this was Marcus. There was an air of power and age about him, but also insanity. So that left so one question... why was Sam still alive?

* * *

Time could pass quickly for immortals when they were happy, just like humans. Those few years he had spent being as a father to Sam had seemed to pass in a blink of an eye. The opposite was also true. During times of hardship and pain, time could seem to slow to a crawl. The years after he had left Sam in the care of the hunters had been a painful eternity, but nothing compared to the nearly six months he'd spent as Marcus' plaything once more.

It was pathetic really. Five months. Nothing compared to the decades he'd spent as the elder vampire's slave and concubine when Marcus had first turned him. And it would be nothing compared to the near century he would need to endure this time to be sure that Marcus kept his word. But still, it felt like an eternity.

Perhaps because he'd had a taste, a small one, of happiness. Something he hadn't had before. Before he had also had hope. Of one day escaping. One day killing Marcus and being free. Now he had no hope. This time he'd put the chains on himself. But no matter his misery, he did not regret his decision. He could not.

Dean felt his sire's presence even before he heard the nearly non-existent sound of the other vampire's footsteps as Marcus glided into the study. He sighed heavily as his solitude was interrupted. Though it had become more commonplace lately. Instead of tiring of him, Marcus' obsession with him only seemed to be growing day by day. The older vampire barely giving him a moment alone these days. The other vampire's presence, unbearable to begin with, even more so with his near constant attention.

Unbearable, but he bore it anyway. He had no choice.

Dean did not look up as his sire stood beside the tattered chair Dean sat in, not even when the other vampire began to speak. The hunters. Yes, Dean _had_ been thinking about them, but not for that reason. Personally he did not give a shit what state they'd been in when Marcus had finally finished playing with them and set them free. Especially considering the number that the black man had done on Dean the last time. Dean had even taken some measure of satisfaction watching.

No, the reason he was thinking about them was because he was confused. Confused and troubled by the fact that Marcus had let the men go _now_. Well, he had been confused before that Marcus had kept them alive for so long to begin with. It was practically unheard of, considering everything he knew of the insane vampire and his equally insane children. He didn't know what kind of game Marcus was playing and that troubled him.

He had spent so long looking for the mortals, trying to be covert about it, in the end Marcus had simply taken him to them himself. Several times Marcus had taken him to them in fact. To watch as they were tortured. Dean never joined in himself, even though Marcus had suggested it. In retaliation for what the hunters had done to Dean. But Dean had declined, out of respect for Sam, not for care of the hunters.

He had asked Marcus to keep them alive, at first because he said he wanted them to suffer. He didn't know if Marcus ever believed that, but it seemed to amuse the old vampire anyway. Eventually Dean had tried to persuade Marcus to release the men alive. As a warning to other hunters. Because death was too merciful. He couldn't even remember all the bullshit he'd spun trying to convince the older vampire he had no other agenda to wanting them alive. Marcus was no fool, he probably knew exactly why Dean wanted the men spared, but he never called him on it. The day Marcus had finally released the hunters, Dean had been shocked beyond belief, and nervous ever since.

Marcus had released the hunters. Just as Marcus said, they were no threat to the nest in the least. But that didn't mean they couldn't tell other hunters. Yet Marcus hadn't moved the nest yet even weeks later. It made no sense. Every few weeks, or month the nest would be on the move. It was normal. Feeding one vampire, the vampire could remain in one area for quite a while. Feeding many vampires however it was too dangerous to remain in one place for very long. The nest had moved four times already since the night he'd gone to Marcus. Yet now, with a possible threat looming on the horizon, they remained? It made no sense.

Dean knew better than to question. Chances were he wouldn't like the answer even if Marcus told him.

Even after all this time Dean had to fight the urge to flinch from the older vampire's touch. He slowly looked up at Marcus when the other vampire touched his face, because that's what Marcus expected. Dean's eyes, always blood red now, were the only outward indication of life, and in them there was only hunger. The small amount of blood that Marcus occasionally fed him from his own wrist was barely enough to keep him from starving. Barely enough to keep him from going mad. Given only when Dean had 'pleased' the older vampire enough.

His face set in stone as he looked up at his sire. Not even twitching when Marcus excitedly announced the 'present' that he'd gotten Dean, even though a feeling of foreboding began to build inside the younger vampire. When Marcus beckoned him, he knew he had no choice but to follow, so he did.

Dean blamed prolonged hunger for dulling his senses, that he did not register the scent before Marcus threw open the door to his bedroom. Before he walked inside and saw the young man tied to his bed. To be honest, Dean wasn't the least bit surprised. Even as he stood in the doorway, frozen in place like a statue, staring. He knew he'd been naive, foolish, to believe that Marcus would keep his word. Still a small part of him had hoped. Now that hope was crushed to dust, and all Dean could do was stare. 

* * *

Marcus watched the plaything's eyes widen at the sight of Dean, recognition flickering in them as well as surprise and shock. Marcus didn't understand... wasn't Dean the reason the little hunter had come here? Then why the surprise?

"Did Dean not teach you to pick on people your own size?" Marcus asked the little hunter, running his fingers through the boy's dark brown hair and watching as he jerked away from him. Exquisite, the boy was. Dean certainly had good taste. The boy was still growing, and Marcus knew that once he grew into his slightly larger hands and feet, he would make one deliciously handsome man. "Or maybe you wished to be the David to my Goliath?"

Getting no answer from the gagged boy, Marcus turned to Dean. "I know you missed him, and I guessed him to be the reason of your... mourning. I also was aware that this boy wouldn't let you go. Not now. Not later. In fact, he'd only grow more dangerous as the years went by, and he had already started." Marcus smiled as he went to Dean, brushing Dean's hair off his face tenderly. "I've been keeping an eye on him," Marcus said softly. "The boy ends up in the same city as us every time we move our nest. It was a matter of time before he came with a hoard of hunters. I personally do not take pleasure in killing puppies, but sometimes you have to do so to stop them from turning into wolves, don't you agree?"

Marcus heard movement, and turned slowly, calm because the boy was no threat. Sam had moved off the bed and to the floor, and was now trying to squirm out of his bindings. He was unsuccessful, of course. There was more than one reason for stripping the boy down. There were more hidden weapons on him than an armory.

"It _is_ rather gorgeous, if a little awkward," Marcus said, delighting when Sam snapped narrowed eyes towards him. Ah, it was getting more and more obvious why Dean was taken with the boy. He seemed to show no fear. Smiling, Marcus turned to Dean and pressed a kiss to Dean's lips, one hand gently cupping Dean's cheek as Marcus slipped his tongue into Dean's mouth, lovingly deepening the kiss for several long moments before breaking it. Behind him, Sam was glaring at him with everything he had, a flush of anger darkening his face and eyes. "I do hope you enjoy your present. Play with it well, and maybe tonight I'll let you drink from me." Marcus said, pressing another kiss to Dean's lips before walking out, leaving Dean and the boy alone.

* * *

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly and he barely managed to swallow back a low angry growl as he watched Marcus play with the boy's hair. His hands clenched at his sides and it took all of his willpower not to throw himself at the older vampire to get him away from Sam and rip out his throat for daring to touch him.

Only the knowledge that such an action would surely mean the death of Sam held Dean in place. Any such action against the older stronger vampire would have been futile even if Dean had been at full strength, it was nothing short of suicidal if he attempted it when Marcus was purposefully keeping Dean so weak.

So Dean merely stood there, as still as a statue, not even daring to breathe lest his rage towards Marcus or the ravenous hunger inside him finally caused him to snap. It might be interesting to see which one would be enough to drive him completely mad first. Right now his anger definitely had a lead.

Especially when Marcus mentioned how Sam had been hunting the nest, and Dean's eyes snapped to Sam with a burning intensity. Was he surprised? No. Really he hadn't expected anything else from the stubborn boy. But that didn't stop Dean from being royally pissed off at Sam.

He had _told_ the boy to leave it alone. Not to search for him or his friends. He would only end up getting himself killed. If he had just left it alone, then maybe Marcus would have lost interest in him and let it be. Or at least, would have let it be for a few years, maybe even decades, rather than a mere few months. Sam could have been older, stronger, more able to protect himself at least.

The reason why the hunters had been kept alive so long, and finally released, was now perfectly clear to Dean. He wished he had taken the opportunity to kill the two men himself when they had been here. They had led Sam right to Marcus' doorstep. Practically handed the boy over to the insane vampire on a silver platter.

As Marcus spoke of 'killing puppies' Dean's stomach churned with dread, because that was how it was going to be. Marcus was going to kill Sam, and there was nothing Dean could do to stop it. He knew the old vampire well enough that he was lying about one thing. Marcus would take great pleasure in it. Killing Sam slowly. Torturing him for days, maybe even weeks, making him beg for death, probably with Dean watching every moment of it before finally ending Sam's life. Or making Dean end it. By then, Dean might even be begging Marcus to let him kill Sam mercifully rather than watching him suffer any longer.

Marcus' kiss drew him out of the dark spiral of his thoughts, but certainly gave him no comfort. Only making the sick feeling inside of him grow. The older vampire's parting words washing over him like a cold arctic wind and Dean barely stopped himself from shaking from the torrent of emotions raging inside of him.

He understood what Marcus was doing, and to the insane vampire it probably _was_ a gift, a kindness, he certainly wouldn't bestow on anyone else. He was giving Dean the opportunity to kill Sam now, quick and clean, before Marcus and his other children had their fun with the boy. Based on Marcus' far from subtle innuendo the older vampire would probably do far more to Sam than just torture him, and the idea almost brought Dean to his knees as another wave of sickness washed over him. As the shock began to dissipate and the realization that this was truly happening, that it was not just another horrible nightmare, finally began to hit him.

Dean wasn't sure how long he stood there, hunched over trying not to throw up. Trying not to breathe because the scent of Sam's blood was so overpowering right now. Trying not to cover his ears to block out the sound of the boy's rapid heartbeat. When he finally did manage to open his eyes and straighten, glancing over at Sam where the boy still sat tied up on the floor, the look in his eyes could only be described as tortured.

It was another long moment before he finally began to approach the boy, every step he took measured and tightly controlled. Once he reached the boy he knelt down on his haunches, resting his arms on his knees. He said nothing, merely looked at the boy for a long time. Then something inside of him snapped, his hand curled into a tight fist and lashed out.

Dean's eyes, glowing a fierce red, bore into the boy's wide eyes unrelenting as he pulled his fist back from the deep dent it had made in the wall right next to Sam's head. Roughly Dean used the same hand to tug the gag out of the boy's mouth. 

* * *

Sam sucked in a quick breath, eyes wide as he watched Dean's fist come towards him. This wouldn't be the first time he had been hit by Dean, but he was sure this would hurt the worst because it didn't seem like Dean was holding back. Dean's glowing red eyes and face twisted in anger made that very clear. Sam sat frozen as Dean's fist crashed into the wall right beside his head, as though it had been a last moment decision to go for the wall instead.

A moment later Dean had torn the gag off Sam's mouth and Sam was relieved, even if Dean's eyes and his silence scared Sam still.

"God, Dean, what the fuck?" Sam asked, shocked more than angry as he looked at the hole Dean had left in the wall beside him. If Dean had gone for Sam's head, he would have a crushed skull right about now. Sam twisted his hands in his bindings, trying to slip the ropes off while he continued to watch Dean. The red eyes staring back at him didn't inspire confidence in Sam, and he worried about how much of Dean was still in there. He hadn't spoken a word so far, and Sam was worried that he had fucked things up royally.

He hadn't meant to get caught. Hell, he hadn't even planned on attacking the nest yet. He had just been keeping a lookout, preparing a plan, figuring out how to get in and get Dean out without anyone being the wiser. He hadn't expected Marcus to expect him, and to knock him out while he had just been scouting. He'll figure out a way to get out of here though, he was sure. Between him and Dean, he didn't think anyone could stand in their way. Even if Dean looked really damn angry at him at the moment, he was sure they'll get past it.

* * *

Dean's eyes flashed and his hand shot out a second time accompanied by a vicious snarl. This time wrapping tightly around the young man's throat. Not tight enough to cut off the flow of air, yet, but it was a definite warning.

"Shut up. Just. Shut. Up." The vampire growled. He knew it was probably counter productive to have ungagged the boy just to tell him to shut up now, but he hadn't exactly expected the first words out of Sam's mouth to enrage him so.

"You stupid, selfish, self centered, child...!" Dean hissed through clenched teeth. Sam had no right to look at him like that. Like he had no idea what he had done. Like he couldn't see how much he was suffering.

He could feel the boy's rapid pulse beneath his fingers and realized his mistake a second too late as the hunger inside him surged and nearly overwhelmed him. At that point it was all he could do not to rip out Sam's throat and drain him dry. He had no idea how he remained sane enough to stop himself from doing so. He had a feeling whatever it was, it wouldn't last long. He could already feel those fragile threads holding him back snapping.

Dean had told Sam what would happen.. He had TOLD him. Was he a complete moron? Why did Sam think Dean had handed himself over to Marcus in the first place? Willing to suffer himself at the mad vampire's hand than allow Marcus to get his hands on Sam. Why did Sam think he had DONE all of this? He had no right... he had no FUCKING right to look so surprised now!

The vampire's fingers around the boy's throat tightened, as cold and unrelenting as steel. His voice just as cold and unrelenting.

"I should have killed you that night. The night I murdered your father. None of this would have happened. None of this..." Of course Dean didn't know that for sure. It was possible eventually Marcus would have caught up to him again, but at least Dean wouldn't have just handed himself over on a silver platter. That much was certain. Even if he had just left Sam in that motel room. Not gotten involved. At least then he wouldn't have cared. He could kill Sam now, rip out the boy's throat, drain him dry, and he wouldn't have cared.

But he did care...

Dean released Sam and stood up with a growl, turned his back on the boy, and walked out the door. He couldn't do it. Even knowing it would spare Sam unimaginable pain in the future, he simply could not do it. They were both truly and utterly fucked, and it was all Sam's fault.

* * *

Dean's hand was wrapped around his throat again, not tight enough to cut off his air but tight enough that Sam had to take in dragging breaths. He looked at Dean with wide eyes, silenced by the vehemence in Dean's tone. Guilt pooled in Sam's stomach, and his chest grew heavy with sadness when Dean said that he wished he had killed Sam.

The feelings of guilt and shame sharpened as Dean blamed him for all of it. All of it was his fault. If Dean had killed him that night, none of this would have happened. Dean wouldn't have been here to begin with if Sam wasn't around, and wouldn't be in this situation at all. The thought that all of this was Sam's fault settled deep into his heart, hurting him with every beat. He still didn't understand how coming here to try and save Dean had been a selfish decision, but the statement hurt nonetheless.

Sam stayed quiet until Dean let go of his throat, allowing him to breathe freely again. When he got up to leave though, Sam rushed to speak up.

"Could you at least-" and the door shut behind Dean. "-untie me... Dean..." Sam sighed, looking down on his bound feet. "I'm sorry," he added softly, knowing Dean probably wouldn't hear. He didn't know what he was sorry about... maybe, it was for just existing.

Shaking his head, Sam pushed the agonizing thoughts away. He was here now, and he was going to do what he came here to do. He'll get Dean out, and then if Dean never wanted to see him again, Sam will make sure to stay out of his way. He'll fix this. All of it. Somehow.

Sam slowly got to his feet, shaking a little because of them being bound. He shuffled towards a barred window. All the windows in the house were barred, Sam had noticed from his rather short scouting. But there was glass on the windows, and Sam just hoped he'd be able to break one to get one of the shards in his hand.

He grabbed the curtain with his teeth and pulled, covering the glass a little and then he turned around, slamming his elbow into the curtain covered window. It hurt like fuck, and the pain zapped down his elbow all the way to his fingers. He didn't think he had cut himself, but his elbow throbbed anyway. The glass broke with a quiet crash, and Sam reached for a rather large glass shard sticking out of the window frame.

Quickly, he got to working on cutting off his binds.

 

 

*

 

Marcus was leaning against a wall in the hallway when Dean walked out. From inside, he heard the pitiful sound of the boy asking to be untied. If the boy could speak or demand anything, then Dean hadn't played with him at all.

"Did the present not please you?" Marcus asked, surprised. "I thought it was what your heart desired." From inside the room, there was a quiet crashing noise and Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I believe the puppy is not to be left alone. It'll get to all sorts of mischief by itself."

Turning around, Marcus headed towards his own room. "Join me in my chambers, Dean. I'll send someone else to check on the puppy. Perhaps I'll even have it removed from your room, if it offends you so."

* * *

Dean wasn't all that shocked to see Marcus waiting in the hallway outside of his room. There was no way the sick bastard was going to "miss the show" so to speak. Dean glared death at his sire but he held his tongue. For now. As much as he wanted to scream in rage and lunge at the elder vampire, Dean wasn't stupid.

Unlike some people, apparently. Hearing the crash inside his room Dean growled deep in his throat at the idiot boy in his room who apparently couldn't remain out of trouble for five minutes when his fucking _life_ was at stake. He should have taken the time to at least knock the stupid boy out when he had the chance.

Dean's jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder he didn't crack a tooth or two. His fingernails dug bloody crescents into his palm his hands were clenched into fists so tightly. But he still said nothing as he followed after Marcus to the elder vampire's chambers.

He wouldn't have Sam killed. Not yet. Not yet... If all Marcus wanted was the boy dead, Sam would already be in pieces. Instead the boy was alive, and from what Dean had seen, completely unharmed. That meant Marcus had something else in mind, Dean just had to figure out what that was, and do whatever he had to... whatever he had to... to try to convince Marcus it was worth his while to keep Sam alive, untouched, and let him go.

Dean mentally cursed the boy again for a fool. Sam had no idea what Dean had done, what he was prepared to do, to keep him safe. All he had asked the boy, ALL he had asked the boy, was to leave him to his fate, not look for him, to stay away, to stay alive... and Sam couldn't even do that.

"What do you want." Dean growled once they were finally alone. "I have done everything, EVERYTHING, you wanted. You promised me..."

Dean paused, took a slow breath, and forced his voice into a more neutral tone. If there was one thing that Marcus did not tolerate, it was insolence.

"You know he is no threat to you. Let him go. He won't look for us again. I swear it. Let him go..." Dean knew there was no point in pretending he didn't care for the boy. That might just encourage Marcus to hurt Sam just to prove a point. 

* * *

As Dean spoke, Marcus' calm demeanor shifted. His lips stretched, mimicking what would be a smile but it was something much more grotesque than that. It didn't make him look friendly, it instead displayed exactly how insane he was.

"Finally, the truth spills from your deceitful lips!" Marcus exclaimed, stepping closer to Dean as his eyes flashed red. "As for your questions, I didn't harm it. You see how it still has the use of its eyes, its tongue, its hands and its legs? I promised I wouldn't harm your toy. I never said I'd leave it alone."

"It is here because, as I said earlier, it was a threat. Not now, of course. Maybe not for many years more, but it loves you. Not the fleeting love. Not a crush or a fling, or an obsession. It loves you, and will follow you until you belong to it again," Marcus explained, smiling even wider. Marcus shook his head, flipping a hand in the air like he was dismissing his thoughts. "Regardless, I lured it here because it was dangerous. I am not one to wait for that pup to become a powerful wolf, and for that powerful wolf to gather more of it's kind into a pack. I prefer to burn the weed now before it grows and infests the garden."

Marcus reached up, gently caressing Dean's cheek. "I do understand why it loves you though. And I understand that it has your heart, no matter how much you try to hide that. I love you too, you know? I'd like to have your heart all to myself. So I gave you it. Now you have your pet, and your pet has you, and I have the both of you. One day, perhaps you'd like to sire it? Make it truly one of us. Then you can have it for eternity." Marcus smiled again, like he was proud of himself for having done something nice for Dean.

 

*

 

Sam cut through the nylon rope binding his hands, and then cut through the rope binding his feet. Freed, he went to the door, opening it slightly and peeking out. The hallway was empty, but that meant nothing. Vampires were fast, and Sam had to find his weapons to be on equal footing. He looked down at his bare feet. He needed his shoes back as well, but those weren't a priority.

He began to search through the room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. Dean was in this mess because of him, and Sam was going to get him out even if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

Dean tried valiantly to hold onto his temper but it was really no use. He was pushed practically to his breaking point. Hate for Marcus. Fear for Sam. Anger for... well... everything. All fighting for control and all threatening to overwhelm him.

"He is only a child!" Dean snarled viciously, his eyes flashing like red flames. Of course that wasn't true. Sam was sixteen. Not a child anymore but still not a man. Not that it mattered to Dean. He had a feeling he would always see Sam as that small six year old boy that he'd orphaned and against all odds grew to care for like a son. Yes, Sam might love him. But it was just the love of a father figure, nothing more.

There was no point in trying to explain that to Marcus, however. The insane vampire simply didn't have the ability to understand real love, rather than insane obsession. Dean hadn't understood it either, until Sam.

But eventually Sam would grow up. He would grow out of the need to have a father figure to replace the one that Dean had taken away. Eventually Sam would have stopped looking for him. If Marcus had only kept his promise...

For the first time since he had made the 'deal' with Marcus his hand shot out to grab the older vampire's wrist and shove it away when the older vampire touched him. Surely his rage making him far bolder than he should have been right now but also a very clear message. Dean was not playing this game. Not when it came to Sam.

"You don't know what love is." Dean spat. Knowing he was going to pay for this later, but that was fine. As long as it was he who paid and not Sam. "If you, or anyone else, lays a hand on him in any way I will kill them."

"I will kill Sam..." Because really, if he couldn't stop Marcus and his children from 'playing' with Sam then the quick painless death he would give the boy would be nothing but a mercy.

"... and I'll kill myself. Then you'll have none of us." It was not a threat. It was a promise, and perhaps the only gambling chip he really possessed. It probably wouldn't stop Marcus' plans for very long. Perhaps not even a few days. But Dean hoped that by then he could find a way to get Sam out of here with his skin still intact. And this time make sure the boy never searched for him again.

With that he let go of Marcus' arm, turned, and stormed towards the door. He had a puppy to housebreak and he needed to get back there before Sam did something stupid. 

* * *

Marcus' face slowly split into a wide smile as Dean ranted at him. This was it. _This_ was exactly what had been missing! This fire, this energy, this pure burning hot passion! Dean had been a lifeless body before this, bending to Marcus' will, but now he had that defiance again that had attracted Marcus to him so long ago. He had that anger, that heat in his eyes again that made him sparkle and shimmer.

God, if Marcus had been capable of love, he was sure Dean was it.

He let Dean go, watching him storm towards the door. He should be angry, the words Dean had said were nothing short of insolent, but Marcus was much too glad to see the fiery young man he had seen so long ago return. And Dean's threats meant nothing anyway. They were no more dangerous than the yapping of a teacup poodle. If Marcus decided he wanted to play with Sam, there was nothing Dean could do about it. Hell, Marcus could have Sam bound and gagged in his bed before Dean even noticed something was wrong.

But he'll enjoy playing this game, just to see the fire return to Dean's eyes.

Not to mention, this is the longest he had let Dean go without feeding. He wondered how long Dean would be able to resist before the temptation of a live, healthy body became too much. Oh Marcus so loved games!

 

*

 

Sam waited beside the door, hand wrapped around a glass shard, ready to use it as a weapon as he waited for a vampire to walk through. He was not a sitting duck, and if the vampires thought he was then they were sorely mistaken.

He shifted his stance a little, sensing movement outside the door. He didn't hear anything, of course. Vampires were notorious for being silent and deadly, but luckily the house was old, and every movement made the place shiver. Sam licked his lips, his heart rate speeding up in anticipation. This was it. Whoever walked through that door was going to get a glass shard in their throat.

* * *

Dean knew he had to hurry. Marcus had threatened to have someone 'check up' on Sam while Dean was away. Even have the boy removed from his room entirely, and Dean knew if that happened he might never see Sam alive again. Given the way Dean had just behaved, Marcus had no reason _not_ to follow through on that threat to punish him. In fact, the way Marcus had simply let him go after their argument only heightened Dean's sense of urgency to return to the boy.

Surely Marcus hadn't had any time to give any instructions to his other children after they'd left Dean's room, but that didn't mean the older vampire hadn't given instructions _before_. Why hadn't Dean thought of that? How could he be so stupid? Had he really let his fear and his anger blind him so? Or perhaps the hunger was clouding his judgement more than he realized. Perhaps all of the above.

So Dean all but sprinted back to his quarters, almost more alarmed because he met no opposition and _didn't_ see any of Marcus' other children along the way. Had they already come and gone? Had they already taken Sam away?

Dean opened the door to his room and it was the feeling of the draft that should not have been there which warned him. His senses already on high alert he was able to duck the swipe of the glass shard that would have opened up his throat had he been a bit less attentive, and catch the arm that wielded the rudimentary weapon.

The vampire frowned at the boy, and then glanced over to the broken window where the draft had come from. Dean snarled softly and then released the young man's arm, confident that now that Sam knew who his 'visitor' was the boy wouldn't try to stab him again. Yet anyway.

"The window? Really? If you had to break something, why not the mirror? Or the lamp? At least then I wouldn't have to sleep in the cold from a broken window." Dean stated in a dry voice, shutting the door behind him and locking it. It wouldn't keep out a vampire, not by a long shot, but the sound of the breaking lock would give him more warning should someone try to enter. 

* * *

Sam panicked for a millisecond when he saw that it was Dean, but by then it was too late to abort the movement and watched, horrified as his hand moved towards Dean's throat. Luckily, the vampire ducked and avoided the shard, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief, which turned to annoyance again when Dean chastised him for going for the window.

"Sorry, wasn't thinking of your _comfort_ when I was looking for a weapon to defend myself," Sam griped, looking Dean over quickly to make sure he wasn't hurt. He didn't look like he was, even though his mood seemed to be even fouler than when he had left, which was a new high Sam supposed. He went and sat down on the bed, gently rubbing the spots the rope had rubbed on his wrists, leaving sore little trails of red, inflamed skin made worse by Sam's attempts to twist out of the knots before he could cut them.

"So... you've been here for a while, apparently," Sam said, looking pointedly at the lack of anything in the room that showed that Dean lived here. The bed was clearly used, but there were spider webs in neglected corners and dust on the curtains and the carpet felt very... old on his bare feet. Not to mention, there weren't any knickknacks or paraphernalia that collected from living in the same place for a while. Did vampires even have knickknacks? Well, Dean used to have some when they had their short stint as a normal suburban family seven years ago. "Any ideas on where they might be keeping my weapons? And clothes?" He asked, letting go of his wrists to rub his upper arms self consciously, all too aware that he was bare from the waist up, and yes, breaking the window had been a dumb idea considering the cool draft coming into the room. He wasn't going to admit it though. Not all of that nervous gesture was because of chill though. Sam was built like a twig. Long and lean and not very muscled. He had seen some of the other hunter boys, almost the same age as him and nearly twice his size. By wearing hoodies and thick shirts and jackets, Sam could add on bulk. This way, he felt very much like a skinny boy playing the big bad hunter.

* * *

Dean turned away from the door to glare daggers at the insolent boy. Not that he was all that surprised by Sam's attitude. Even as a child the stupid boy had never been one to reign in his mouth even when it was in his best interest. And it seemed Sam's self preservation instinct had not improved at all with age.

"I would be happier if you started actually _thinking_ at all." The vampire growled. "Like what might have happened _if_ you managed to cut me, and your _weapon_ slipped in your hand, cutting you. Even one drop of blood in an open cut and you would be infected."

Dean turned away then, looking for something he could shove into the broken window to minimize the amount of cold air blowing in. The cold air certainly would not make him sick or anything, but it would make him uncomfortable, and he had enough discomfort in his life right now without adding to it. Perhaps it would be easier just to find another room, there were plenty of them in the old mansion, but Dean would rather not parade Sam around a whole house of hungry vampires unless it was absolutely necessary.

Finally Dean grabbed one of the spare pillows off the bed and shoved it into the broken window. Better than nothing. He didn't bother answering Sam's little attempt at small talk. What did the boy expect him to say anyway?

"Most likely destroyed." Dean did answer Sam's question regarding his weapons, not knowing if it were true or not, but he'd rather put the stupid idea of Sam trying to get them out of the boy's head right away. "They would do you no good anyway."

The vampire glanced over at the boy in time to see Sam rubbing his arms and sighed, walking over to his closet and opening it. Dean hated the clothes that Marcus provided him but it was better than walking around naked. No reason to give Marcus more of a show than he already had. He hated the idea of Sam wearing the garments even more but he took out one of the thicker shirts and tossed it to the boy much for the same reasons. Not to mention he didn't want Sam freezing to death.


End file.
